


Fallen

by xRogueWhispersx



Series: Sweet Surrender [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Emotional, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Love, Magic, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person, Past Character Death, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRogueWhispersx/pseuds/xRogueWhispersx
Summary: Breath hitched. Running. Twig snapping. Bow string drawn. Running. River flowing. They're above me. They're following me. Chasing. I run faster.Lost. Dense trees. Branches scratch my arms. I find a river. The arrow misses me. Barely. I look back and I see the hunter in the tree. A warning shot. I ignore the chance for mercy. I leap over a fallen tree as I follow the river, snow cascading all around me. I know it is no use, this chase. There are too many of them. It is too late for me now."Fen'Harel ma halam." The hunter says as he pulls his string back for a fatal shot. The threat burns in my entire being. I am no longer afraid.My left hand makes contact with the bark of an elm tree. I did not know how it happened, but it flowed through me in an instant. I keep running, and when I look back I am almost blinded by the bright orange colour that covers the landscape. Smoke travels through the air as the heat washes over me. I don't see the hunters now, but I cannot be certain that they have fallen prey to the flames.I continue on.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Character(s), Solas & Original Female Character(s), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Solas/Reader, Solas/You
Series: Sweet Surrender [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816663
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. I'll Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to all you lovelies reading my first fic on this website! I have put a lot of effort into writing this story and I hope you enjoy reading it <3 This series will take place during the main events of Dragon Age Inquisition after the quest-line In Hushed Whispers. 
> 
> I left the main character as ambiguous as possible, with no mention to her looks or name, allowing you to picture whoever you would like (including yourself, if you are into that sort of thing). This proves to be a fun challenge, but allows me to focus more on who she is than what she looks like. 
> 
> I currently have three chapters prepared and only in need of editing, so rest assured that if you do like this story, more is coming on the way!

_Breath hitched. Running. Twig snapping. Bow string drawn. Running. River flowing. They're above me. They're following me. Chasing. I run faster._

_Lost. Dense trees. Branches scratch my arms. I find a river. The arrow misses me. Barely. I look back and I see the hunter in the tree. A warning shot. I ignore the chance for mercy. I leap over a fallen tree as I follow the river, snow cascading all around me. I know it is no use, this chase. There are too many of them. It is too late for me now._

_"Fen'Harel ma halam." The hunter says as he pulls his string back for a fatal shot. The threat burns in my entire being. I am no longer afraid._

_My left hand makes contact with the bark of an elm tree. I did not know how it happened, but it flowed through me in an instant. I keep running, and when I look back I am almost blinded by the bright orange colour that covers the landscape. Smoke travels through the air as the heat washes over me. I don't see the hunters now, but I cannot be certain that they have fallen prey to the flames._

_I continue on._

* * *

It has been weeks since the chase now. I should have known better, getting too close to the conclave meant exposing myself to His spies. Spies who were still on the lookout for me. I admit that I am tired of running. I have kept to the shadows for years, but I am still in the same position that I was then, nothing will change my predicament. I realize now that He will never leave me be, so I look for protection.

This newly-famed Inquisition has piqued my interest. I have heard tales from all my wanderings and lately the only words to grace the shemlen's lips have been "The Herald". Not every word is good, but the people who condemn the organization are in denial of the real threat. Even I am aware that the breach in the sky must be closed. Ever since it's arrival I have heard nothing but strange occurrences that have been happening all over Thedas. The death of the Divine was only the beginning. Rifts have now opened up, allowing demons to roam the lands. And there have been whisperings ... whisperings about a cult named the Venatori, and something odd is happening with the Templars too, but I cannot be certain of what.

The vallaslin on my face gives away my nature, otherwise they would think I were a servant and continue on with their conversation, not realizing that us "knife-ears" can still sell a few secrets if we were bold enough. That was one way I made a living. I stand in the shadows for as long as I can, but it is of no use, I cannot gain any further information.

I do not stay in the town for long. I have learned only too well from experience that my presence grapples the shemlen's attention quickly and it becomes unsafe for me to stay. Too many prying eyes. Too many questions. I am best left alone. It is not often that a Dalish elf is seen in a community by herself. I gather more supplies and move on.

* * *

The Herald has become a sensation overnight. I saw with my very own eyes the distant breach in the sky close up, leaving behind a scar as a reminder of what could have been. I hear the loud gasps and cheers from a village nearby and I cannot help smiling to myself in spite of it all.

However, there is a deep feeling in the pit of my stomach that this is not quite over yet. The thought is unsettling, but I remind myself of the whispers. The breach was not put there randomly. Something started it all and whoever did is responsible for the death of all those people at the conclave. It is a mystery that is beginning to unfold, and I would like to be there when it does.

* * *

I set off for the north once again, for Haven. The incident that occurred a few weeks ago cannot happen again, because I know I will not be lucky a second time. He is much more cunning than I am, and for once my decision is affected by fear. I am aware that the journey is long and arduous. It will require a great deal of stealth and swiftness, however, and I must try to keep out of the forests as much as I can. I am fully aware of what can be lurking within, and who's eyes could be watching.

The next village I visit a few days later is when I hear of the news. Haven was taken.

"That's right! I don't know what has happened, but I heard they've up and moved."

"Who?" The other stranger asks.

The bearded man bangs his fist on the wooden table aggressively, causing his ale to spill onto the table. "The Inquisition, of course, you dolt! That merchant - Von Brarr, I think his name was - has gone up. He says "I won't wait around for the demons to take the village, I'm going to Skyhold." I dunno how he thinks that place'll be much better than here. I heard there was a dragon involved in the attack at Haven!"

The other man furrowed his brows and licked his lips. "But Rex, we all live in wooden houses! A dragon comes here and we all turn to ash!"

The bearded man clicked his tongue with annoyance and waved off his companion's concerns. I pulled my hood further over my head once I noticed that one of the men started looking around the tavern for the waitress. I'd rather not risk them realizing that I had been eavesdropping, the hood may make me look shady, but it is better than if they were to see my true face. The intel was good, however, as I had a new destination now. The only thing that worried me was finding it, as I had never heard of a place named Skyhold; either in a book or even a rumor.

I should have known not to worry.

Scattered all around the south were those travelling north. It was as if a migration were happening. People from all over the lands were offering their support for the Inquisition for various different reasons. There were some who genuinely wanted to help, others who saw only a business opportunity, and even a strange bloke who just wanted to gaze upon the Herald for himself. Knights, mages, herbalists, smiths. They were all offering their services. I suppose my reasoning for wanting to join was a bit more selfish. However, as I thought along the journey, I knew there was much I could offer. I was skilled with a bow and my daggers, I had read many books, I knew Dalish customs, and most of all, I knew secrets. I knew how to blend in with a crowd and how to gain information. It is harder, being Dalish, to accomplish such things, but I wasn't the typical Dalish Elf. For one, I no longer had a Clan to follow.

The closer I got to Skyhold, the more I began to feel insecure. Perhaps they would not take me in after all? They may already have too many visitors or perhaps they would believe that I was not suitable for any station. There were droves of people all going in the same direction. I held my cloak closer to my body as the chill crept up my spine while I traveled through the mountains. Yes, perhaps my chances of joining were slim indeed.

I heard stories as I remained in my state of solitude. My heart wept for some of the people who were merely seeking shelter after losing their homes. Others talked about their Templar friends who went missing. There was one lady from Redcliffe who stated that she no longer felt safe in the village after the Tevinter Magister kicked out the Arl, then she began to recount her memories of the tragedies that occurred, the worst being when the dead rose during the Blight so many years ago. A Knight standing a few feet away admitted that he was uncomfortable with training at Skyhold due to the alliance with the mages, but he could not leave his sister by herself, as she was determined to offer her services as a healer.

A lady turned to me then, hand in hand with her daughter. Her little girl was maybe seven years old? She had rounded cheeks with blue eyes that matched the color of the sky. Her blonde hair was very long and curly and she held a doll that was very tattered and worn, but treated with love and kindness. The girl had a kind of wandering curiosity about her that I admired. Sometimes I found myself wishing that I could see the world from their perspective, to be able to learn things for the very first time and view the world with complete and utter innocence. The girl did not see me as a lesser, as a "knife-ear", she saw me with no hint of animosity, just curiosity.

"What about you?" The mother asked. Her eyes were just as blue, and showed the same amount of kindness. They were wrinkled at the ends but not from old age, they were merely smile lines. "What brings you to Skyhold?"

I was startled at first. I had not expected to be noticed, but as the woman spoke to me, I saw other heads turn to look at me, not with disgust, but interest. I was not sure if I should feel as unnerved as I did, and in that moment I found myself speechless as I swallowed to find the right words. There were so many answers to her question, but some would be unwise to speak about in the crowded scene.

"I wish to help, in any way I can." I answered with simplicity as I pondered the honest but vague way I could proclaim my reason.

"But are you not Dalish? What about your Clan?" asked a different woman, she was elderly with short grey curled hair.

I expected the elderly lady to look at me with contempt, but when I looked upon her face I did not see a trace of that emotion there. It was strange to be treated with such fairness. Something which I had craved for all my life, but could never achieve. I began to feel ashamed for thinking so low of the people around me, and my heart gave them another chance.

I gaze upon the woman solemnly. "I no longer have a Clan to speak of. The services that I offer are mine alone. I hope it will be enough."

The elderly woman gave me a nod of approval and continued on the path in silence. In that moment I felt something that I had not felt in a very long time: respect. It came from an unlikely source, but I treasure the feeling as it starts a flame in my heart that shall not be quenched until my journey is seen through. I pushed down the hood of my cloak, allowing the people to look upon me and my pointed ears if they wished, as the thought no longer bothered me. The mother beside me squeezed the hand of her daughter more tightly as she gazed at the vallaslin on my face.

"I pray that you no longer have to be alone." She murmured to me. Her words shocked me, and when I looked at her daughter I saw nothing but the brightest smile that I had ever seen. The image burned into my mind the whole way through.

It was not long until I saw the fortress. My first sight of the building caught me off-guard. The castle was old and secluded, the battlements were strong, and the whole aura was ... ancient. I could see the fascination and fear with the newly founded Inquisition now as they seemed a proper organization brought together to defeat their purpose.

The line to the gates was long and cramped. People from all over Thedas were clamoring to enter. Not everyone was let in, it seemed, as some marched back with disgruntled looks on their faces. I could understand why, as the fortress was large, but not large enough to hold an entire frightened nation. Those seeking only refuge with nothing to give would have to find their peace with the Chantry, not an army.

The sun was high in the sky by the time I reached the gates to the fortress. There were a handful of guards speaking with every person to learn their reason for wanting to join the Inquisition. My case would be no different.

"Another elf for the kitchens I suppose? I'm sorry - we have too many of you already," said the guard who barely looked up from his clipboard to see me.

The anger I felt bristled through me quickly, but the breath I let out allowed the feeling to escape. I know when and where to control my emotions, even if it can sometimes be hard. I battle constantly with my feelings everyday. There have been times where I have allowed my heart to open too much, and the weakness of allowing my emotions to control me have only burdened my experiences. Cutting and beating out my feelings was something He had forced me to many years ago. If I couldn't feel, I couldn't be hurt. That particular lesson I never mastered, and I have paid the price for it countless times over.

"Actually, I think I may offer more assistance to your spymaster, perhaps." I responded coolly, standing straight with bold confidence. I hadn't thought much about the spies until the words came out of my mouth. But once I spoke them, I knew that would be the best fit for someone of my stature.

"Spymaster? I'm sorry, but I don't know what you are talking about." The guard says as he glances over at the other guard beside him.

His acting is quite good, I have to admit. Though I noticed the betrayal of his words in his eyes alone. I am not fooled, a place like this cannot survive off of an army and connections alone. My whole life I have lived in the shadows, I know how important it is. The Game stretches across all of Thedas, not just Orlais, and spies are a requirement for such a thing. An organization as large as this would need people watching for traitors and secrets.

I stared the guard down, daring him to change his mind. When he did not, I simply nodded my head towards the people behind him.

"The merchant over there. The messenger. Even the guard above. I've never seen a messenger stand so still, I assume he is listening to our very conversation right now. The merchant? He's a quiet fellow, so either he is in the wrong trade or he is looking at potential customers to see what they may be hiding. Your guard above is meant to alarm of any persons of interest. Have I forgotten someone, or should I keep going? Because in my opinion they have all _failed_." I state quickly and clearly, making sure every word is eloquently spoken and to put emphasis on my last word.

The guard is taken aback. His mouth gaped open slightly as he looked beside him for some sort of assistance, but none came. I figured that I was the first person to have noticed such a thing. For a spy such as myself, I am not surprised. It is easier to recognize one of my own when I am looking for it, and only the best are so observant. When the guard did not say anything, I took that as permission to elaborate upon my statement.

"That man that you just let in, the Ferelden? He is a spy. In fact, he is not Ferelden at all. Though his accent was quite convincing, it was his slight slip on the word "library" that gave him away. Not to mention that his coin purse is clearly Orlesian. So, why would an Orlesian dress and speak as someone else if they were not a spy? I suspect he was sent here from some noble house, they are so keen on learning all they can about this newly-formed Inquisition that I am sure they would take every precaution they could to not get caught and have it traced back to them. Shame that they put their money in the wrong man."

The man was scratching at his clipboard with mounting surprise. "D-do you have any other skills that can assist the Inquisition?" He asked after clearing his throat.

"As a matter of fact, I do. But that information would be best told in private only to the Herald himself and your spymaster." I respond, impressed with my own boldness.

The guard quickly motions to the messenger, who then runs off. He glances back at me and begins to walk towards the grounds of the fortress, hinting for me to follow.

The words had been out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I hadn't originally intended to put myself in this situation, to demand an audience with the Herald and spymaster. It was ill-thought of, dangerous, even. I had to think of a proper defense now, to prove worthy of my claims. I walked behind the guard with as much grace and purpose as I could muster. I had an urge to pull my hood back up and run in the opposite direction, but no, I could not resort to cowardice. I had to be strong now, as this was my own doing. Besides, I knew this organization was the best place for me, even if I did have to work in the kitchens.

The guard stopped and waited. A scribe ran up to us a moment later and gave him a curt nod. No words were spoken through this exchange but I knew what was happening. The guard went back to his post and I followed the scribe up the set of stairs. The silence was deafening and only made me feel nervous, but I made sure not to let this weak expression show. I knew the spymaster's eyes were all over me. My claims at the gates would travel quickly, and they would want to know exactly who they were dealing with. I knew how this game was played.

There was another set of stairs until we entered the main castle.

The main hall was quite large, built all in stone that was centuries old. There were still some renovations being worked on, but the building was sturdy. Banners with the symbol of the Inquisition hung throughout the hall, and at the very end stood a large and semi-comfortable looking throne. I found myself impressed with the grand hall.

Already there were whispers as I walked past, but we did not go far into the hall, and ended up taking the first exit on the right. I walked past a dwarf who stood by the fireplace. As I was reflecting how familiar he seemed, the man flashed me a wink. Unsure how to respond, I opted to grin a little as I passed by.

The scribe led me into what I assumed was the base of a tower. It was a circular room that had a recently started mural on the walls and a few pieces of furniture still covered up. Clearly whomever resided in this room had not finished unpacking, but they were nowhere to be found. The scribe led me to yet another staircase and we climbed up once again, and then one last time as we passed by bookshelves that lined the walls. I thought I heard the sound of birds flapping above me before we reached the top of the tower.

It was quiet despite there being a handful of people wearing cloaks and birds scattered all over the room - it looked like a rookery. In front of me there stood a man who was bent over a table with a shadowy figure, clearly in deep discussion. The scribe let out a loud cough to signal my arrival. The two looked up simultaneously to lay their eyes directly upon me. I felt like a child who had just interrupted their parents with the look they gave me now, or an enslaved elf in a noble house who was about to get the switch. I did not flinch, knowing that I needed to make a strong first impression. They cast long shadows, however.

"So ... you are the one who has insulted the quality and workmanship of my spies, yes?"

She had a thick Orlesian accent. I had no doubt that she had partaken in The Game back in Orlais if she was indeed the spymaster. The woman stepped out of the shadows and I saw her face clearer from the sunlight that peaked through the window. She was quite beautiful, with hair that was hidden beneath her hood, although I could see a couple of red rogue strands. She masked her emotions well, as I originally thought she was angry with me, but now I could see that she was testing me. I chose my next words carefully.

"Not at all, I was merely pointing out someone whom they did not truly see, and offered that they take a closer look," I responded cautiously.

"After our guard attempted to turn you away, I suspect." The spymaster replied without missing a beat. Challenging me. I almost grinned at the intensity of her nature.

"After your guard failed to assess me properly, yes. I am no kitchen wench, I'm afraid, although I can understand how the ears tend to throw people off."

At my reply, I saw a quiver on her face. Did the spymaster almost grin? If she was impressed, the look had been wiped off her face before I could notice. The woman began to circle around me, as if she were a vulture. A tactic used to intimidate me, but I was no longer going to give in to such follies for a simple test. I turned my attention to the man and suddenly realized that he was no spy at all, his demeanor did not match up with any of the others in the room. If I had to guess, the man in front of me must be the proclaimed Herald. I tried not to let this revelation affect my abilities.

The woman stopped again in front of me, after she had finished sizing me up, "my messenger informed me that you would not speak of your skills to anyone but the Inquisitor and myself. I pray that these abilities of yours prove worthy enough of our attention, and not a waste of time."

"They are. I have many services I can offer. For one, I am useful with a blade and bow, I can pick any lock and remain unseen, and I have spent much of my life in the shadows so I know where to hide and what to listen for. I am also aware of Elven customs and such, finding or speaking with them to gain information or help without me would be nearly impossible. Also, I know these lands almost better than anyone else. I have traveled through much of Thedas, so I know many of her secrets. I have also read countless books in my travels, which makes me fairly knowledgeable about customs and history."

"And how do I know that you are not a Dalish spy?"

At this, I pulled out my weaponry and belongings. It wasn't easy to prove that I was not sent to spy on them in general, but I had not been with a Clan in a very long time, and I could prove that by showing my blades.

"These are not of Dalish origin. The Dalish craft magnificent weapons and some of their most powerful contain Ironbark. As you can see, these were not made by any Dalish crafter. I have not traveled with my old clan for many years now, nor have I had any contact with them. I did not leave on good terms, but you can rest easy knowing that they would not dare bother the Inquisition. I would not let anything compromise my duty here. I offer my services because I know that I am capable. But it is not mere confidence that brings me here. I want to help in any way that I can, yes, by cleaning bedpans if I must!" My chest swells as I speak through my raw emotions, letting them take control for a moment.

I saw a flicker of something in the Herald's eye, but the Spymaster gave me no hint of her inner thoughts as she listened to my words.

"And the reason you left your clan is ...?"

"Complicated." I replied simply. "It is not a matter of importance, but if that were to change I can promise you that the Inquisition would be the first to know."

The woman narrowed her eyes and stared at me for a few moments longer, as if she were trying to read my thoughts. Then, she turned swiftly towards the Herald, as if to indicate that she was done with her interrogation and wished to hear his verdict. I held my breath as I waited to hear what the Herald had to say. He moved away from the desk to get a closer look at me and though his emotions were easier to read, I could not tell what he was thinking. I saw that he was curious, nothing more.

"You say you know the lands quite well. How well?"

"There is scarcely a place that I have not set my foot in. I could tell you everything there is to know about the Emerald Graves and how it is currently being occupied by a group calling themselves the Freemen of the Dales. I am aware of both sides to the story of the Exalted March, but I am not biased from the Dalish perspective. I know the tales of Redcliffe better than anyone, unless you speak to someone who was there. I happen to know that while _you_ were in Redcliffe, magisters from Tevinter had seized control, and had even removed Arl Teagan from the castle. King Alistair was seen approaching the castle to confront the mages and ... well, here we are. The mages are no longer welcome in Ferelden, but you offered them a full alliance. That is only what has happened in the last two weeks, would you like me to carry on?"

The Herald waved his hand, allowing me to stop. I had heard more than one account of what happened at Redcliffe on my travels to Skyhold, but it seemed as though I got most of the information correct, as the Inquisitor was looking at his spymaster now with deep intensity. It was as if they were trying to converse without words. The spymaster looked concerned and when the Herald turned back to face me, he seemed cautious, but interested. That was good, I could work with interested.

"How far are you willing to go, to serve the Inquisition?" He asked slowly.

"As far as it takes."

"Then I welcome you into my own inner circle. We ride for Crestwood in three days' time."


	2. Move Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, there was a hand underneath my own while the other pushed the volume at the top back into place, stabilizing the pile. I felt my cheeks blush slightly with embarrassment as I slowly lowered the books to face the man who had surprised me, and to offer my apologies. 
> 
> Then I found myself staring into the blue-gray eyes of an elf, and everything looked different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for all the support you have given. It has been a long time since I have posted any sort of fic, so seeing all the kudos and followers of this story with only the first chapter posted has been really inspiring. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter where we start to see a few more familiar faces throughout as it begins with her first day in the Inquisition!

_ I walked through the forest with swiftness in each stride. The dirt path was uneven and narrow, but I followed it until I found a trail. I bent low, letting my fingers run across the large paw print of a wolf - and then I heard it, a cracking noise in the distance. I stood up quickly with my bow raised in the direction that the disturbance came from. My fingers pulled at the string tautly as I held my breath to centre my aim. Even with the moonlight as my guide, I could not see the trespasser. There was nothing but whispers. The sinister sound felt like a breeze on the back of my neck, causing a chill to run up my spine.  _

_ “Hear, but you will hear only lies. See, and you will still not. Feel, and you will fall, merely prey.” _

_ I recognized the voice in an instant, my grip slackened for a second as I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach. I did not encounter the fear that I so often felt when I thought of hearing that voice again. Something was different this time … something not right. Though I could not see Him, I was still able to put a face to the mysterious voice. _

_ He always enjoyed lingering in the shadows.  _

_ “Instead of preaching your cryptic lessons, why don’t you show your face instead?” I spat angrily, “I’m not a little girl any longer, I know your commandments as a cloistered sister knows the Chant. I am done playing your mind games!”  _

_ Only a laugh echoed throughout the clearing, it rang through, but it came from behind me now. I whirled around to follow the malicious howling, but still I could not see my target. I had heard his teachings many times before, but never like this. It was ominous this time, and the feeling did not bring me comfort. The forest surrounding me turned white with snow, but I braced against the cold as I kept my bow sturdy, waiting for him to jump out at me. He was cunning, but I had to be even more so. _

_ There was a whoosh from beside me as He spoke once again, “you know what you are.” _

_ I was hit with the force of a strong realization. A mistake had slipped through his words. _

_ “Ah … of course,” I murmured, closing my eyes for a moment as I reflected upon these words. “A demon. I am in the Fade.” _

_ I expected to hear the voice answer me, but none such thing came. It seemed as though the demon did not appreciate my revelation so quickly. If I had to guess, it was either despair or fear. I had called it out too quickly for me to fully discern its nature. This was not the first dream I have had with His voice calling out to me, taunting me even from the depths of the Fade. He was so vicious and evil that I could almost believe it was really Him. When I thought more about this, I reckoned there was not much of a difference between Him and a demon, but the real thing would be much scarier.  _

_ The demon's words still remained ominous. They resonated within me and I did not appreciate the feeling of it looking deep into my being and knowing what I was, something that I had tried to bury among the living world. Everything was always pulled from my soul in the Fade, but even I suspected that I did not know the full capacity of what I was. How could I, when I have been forced to hide and suppress it my entire life?  _

_ “Tell me, tell me what I am!” _

_ But there were no more voices. No more whispers. _

_ I was alone.  _

* * *

The Inquisition was not how I imagined it would be. Not only was the place magnificent from its gardens to the battlements, but most people did not give me dirty looks when I walked past. I had spent my morning in the quarters I had been assigned after my meeting with Leliana and the Inquisitor. It was nice to stay in a sheltered room for once, as there have been but a few occasions where I lay in sheltered walls - it was never a constant in my life. The morning had been quite pleasant, actually. I spent half an hour staring out the window, looking at the miles of mountains that lay before me, during that time I decided to use these two days to practice my skills and perhaps even check out the mass of books that the Inquisition had collected. It would not be a bad idea to read as much as I could about Crestwood or the Grey Wardens before we left, anything that could prove useful. 

I had not been filled in on much of what had transpired in the past couple weeks, but I also dared not to ask in front of Leliana. She had not been impressed with the Herald’s decision to allow me into their fold - even though she did not say anything while I was in the room, she furiously started whispering to him when I left. Plus, her constant dirty looks gave it away. I found that I was not bothered by it, however. I could understand her reason for wanting to be cautious, and if I had been in her position I would have felt the same. I still had much to prove, I couldn’t expect to be welcomed entirely with open arms. Besides, if I had told them who I really was … I doubt the Herald would have allowed me into the Inquisition so willingly. If Leliana really was unhappy with the arrangement, she was powerless; the Inquisitor seemed adamant. 

The Inquisitor had only explained to me that he was looking for a Grey Warden contact. It appeared as though all the Grey Wardens had gone missing. This was not normal behaviour for them, from what I was aware of. The order was one of the most secretive in Thedas - part of the reason why I had been fascinated with them years ago - but for them to disappear entirely … something did not settle right with me about that. The timing of everything could not be mere coincidence. Aside from this, I did not know much more about the mission. Leliana allowed the Inquisitor to explain only enough for me to look into it.

Regardless, I was lucky and thankful for it all. I had an eagerness to prove my loyalty to this cause and I would not give up so easily. Any of those who opposed and questioned my joining would find that I would not be easily swayed. I knew this was my place. 

Though, where every other place was … that was a different situation. I had no idea where most places of interest were located in Skyhold. I knew there was a tavern somewhere, and I had heard of an undercroft and spotted the garden, but that was it. I felt uneasy at exploring it all so suddenly on my own, as I did not want to appear suspicious. At least I knew where the training grounds were as I had passed them only the day before. Once I was dressed and had my bow to practice with, I headed down the steps of the tower. There were quite a few soldiers practicing with dummies, each other, and even some targets. I could see that the soldiers ranged from all different levels just by watching them. There were definitely a lot of newer recruits, but there were still some officers and generals amongst them. Yet even the newest recruits were developing polished and precise skills. I had to admit that I was impressed with what I had seen as I watched from afar, leaning against an unused target. 

I knew there were eyes on me. Leliana would want to keep a close watch on me, but they would not find anything; I had nothing to hide … well, nothing that they would find, anyways.

It felt awkward standing there, as if I was waiting for something to happen. I was merely unsure if it would be okay to begin practicing on my own, but when no one questioned my presence, I pulled out my bow. It was one of my most prized possessions, perhaps not as great as the first bow I had owned, for sentimental reasons, but this one was unique. It was ornate, with carvings made of silver which ran into its darkened wood, almost matching my vallaslin. Bits of amethyst and emerald encrusted the upper and lower limbs of the bow, and a doe of silver was fleshed into the handle. Despite this, it was light with a perfect balance. I called her Banal’ras Bor’assan, the name seemed fitting.

I moved towards one of the targets and started off easy: perfecting my aim, position, and balance. I aimed my arrow directly at the middle of the target and practiced my breathing as I pulled the string. I held my breath when I was ready and let go. The arrow hit my mark exactly where I wanted it to. I did this a few times, backing up with each shot, hitting my mark every time except once where I was off by a couple inches when I breathed out at the wrong time. My main goal was to get a sense for my bow again, it had been over a week since I had used her. 

I began to position my bow in different ways as I practiced. Mostly, the techniques I used were of Dalish origin, or some I had learnt from Antiva or Orlais. But I could not remember where I had learnt to shoot from a low angle. Perhaps that came from my own Clan? Whatever the case was, I soon found that the simple target practice was becoming too easy, no matter how far back I stood. It was better to exercise with a moving target, as most of my enemies would not wait in a stationary position for me to kill them. Shame, it would be much easier if they did.

I looked around and spotted a recruit who was standing at a nearby sword rack. “Are you busy?” I asked politely, and when the recruit shook his head I continued on, “I’d like you to run around with that target for me so I can shoot it.” 

The recruit widened his eyes alarmingly at my proposition. Perhaps I had been too forward. The look on his face signalled that he did not like the idea of running around while I shot at him, but really, what else was I supposed to do? I  _ knew  _ I wouldn’t hit him. He was a good lad, though, because even though he was shaking with fear and nerves as he picked up the target, he did so willingly. After all, I was clearly not one of his officers.

For over an hour I practiced with this new, moving target. My arrows would hit my prey every time and more often than not would I hit exactly where I meant to. I would move with the target as well, and I practiced shooting my arrows as quickly as I could, firing an arrow off roughly every 2 or 3 seconds at rapid speed. I did not realize how hard I pushed myself until after it was done, as my arm was beginning to feel numb. Guess I was a bit more rusty than I had realized.

When I called it off, the recruit collapsed on the grass to breathe. I cringed at my own lack of seeing how hard I had pushed the lad. “Are you alright?” I shouted.

He simply gave me a thumbs up as he lay, face down in the grass. I rushed to bring him some water, and gave him a hefty pat on the back. “I appreciate the help.” 

It was then that I heard the sound of someone approaching me. For a moment I thought I was in trouble, but the steps were not heavy with purpose. I relaxed as I stood up, ready to hear what this stranger wished to announce or question.

“Your skills are quite impressive, I must say.” 

It was a deeper voice that had a smoothness to it. Ferelden. I turned around and saw a very tall man with blonde, almost curly hair and light brown eyes. He looked to be in his thirties, and I knew he must be a higher ranking official in the Inquisition due to the armor that he had. He wore a dark fur shawl that appeared to elevate his status. He was dressed unlike any other soldier. The one thing he wore so plainly was the haunted look in his eyes. 

“Thank you,” I replied and ran my fingers through my hair awkwardly, I was not used to being complimented. “Your soldiers show a lot of skill and potential, it is an honor to practice alongside them. I am sorry to have taken one of your recruits from his duties for so long, but I must admit that I am impressed he did not complain once.” 

The man let out a low chuckle at this, “yes, he did do  _ quite _ a bit of running from what I had seen, but he’s a good lad and was happy to help, I’m sure.”

The recruit on the ground groaned behind me and I grinned sheepishly with slight embarrassment. The man was kind, but he had a serious look to him. I suspected that he had seen a lot in his years, much like myself. Still, he had captured my curiosity with his compliment, I had half-expected no one to talk to me, given that the spies were watching me like a hawk. If this man really was a high-ranking official, he knew exactly who I was, as I knew the spymaster would have asked others about me. I wondered who he was exactly, he was definitely a soldier of some kind, and had trained for many years. I had a feeling, but I could not be sure. 

“Well, I still appreciate that you let him practice with me for that length of time. If there is anything you need, I would be more than happy to help. I am only here for a few days, however. Perhaps I could assist with some training? I am only confident with my bows and daggers, but I can still handle a sword alright. But, maybe not as well as you, Ser …” I trailed off, giving him the opportunity to introduce himself. 

He seemed to take the hint, letting out a quick and awkward cough, “uh - no Ser. Just Cullen, Cullen Rutherford. I was a Templar before all this, but now I serve as the Commander for the Inquisition’s forces and advisor for the Herald. I assume you must be that new recruit for the Herald’s inner circle, I had Leliana asking about you earlier, and I am sure you can understand why. But I shall have to inform her that you know your way around a bow, she’ll be impressed with that. As for your offer, I would gladly take you up on that, when you have the time.”

How charming. I suspected he had been a Templar, I had seen many before and he definitely had _ the look _ . There was a darkness in his eyes that told me he had seen much in this world, a look that Templar’s generally shared. Still, it was impressive to meet the Commander face to face so quickly. I had no idea how long he had been watching me practice, but he seemed to be pleased with what he had seen, given how he took my offer so willingly. If he had truly been suspicious of my motivations he may not have done so. I had taught a few other elves in my old Clan how to fight properly and master ancient techniques suited to their skill-set. Those were perhaps the only happier days I had with my Clan. 

“I would love to help out in any way that I may. I understand that your plate must be full enough as it is, commanding an army is no small feat. Not to mention being an advisor … do you ever get a moment’s peace?” I asked as I twiddled the string of my bow.

“No … not often. But I would not trade this job for anything. We’re fighting for a noble cause. You’re going to be busy as well, I suspect, now that you are travelling with the Inquisitor. You’re in good hands, and I’m sure he’ll be thankful for your skills, especially since you clearly don’t need much practice with archery, by the looks of it. I’d hate to be facing you on the opposing side of the battlefield,” he said with an amused glint in his eyes, then he pointed to my bow. “Do you mind?”

I guessed that he wanted to take a closer look at her, it was not the first time someone had asked to see it. I didn’t mind showing the Commander, however, so I handed it over and watched him examine the detailing with a fine hand. A man of his stature would appreciate a bow like mine, and those who had no skill for weaponry would still be fascinated. I knew I could trust him enough to hold one of the items most precious to me. His fingers crossed the gems and I watched his expression turn to deep thought. My weapon was custom made, so I doubt he would have seen anything like it before. I was very proud of it, in a way.

“What does this mean?” he murmured as he traced the elven words carved into the bow.

I grinned in spite of myself. I couldn’t help feeling a little prideful at his question, one that I always wanted to answer. My favourite part about all my weapons were the elven words I had carved into them, giving them a name and a meaning; and in a sense, purpose. This particular name was clever, in more ways than one. Most would believe it was only because of how my bow looked, but if they knew my true nature they would understand. To this day, I never had anyone question it. 

“It means Shadow Bow,” I replied, standing a little straighter. Next to me, the Commander was a looming figure.

He looked into my eyes then. His own glimmered with flecks of gold. I could not tell what he was thinking of in that moment, but he seemed to like the name as he chuckled and handed it back to me.

“It’s a formidable weapon, I’ll give you that. I’ve never felt a bow quite so balanced. I pray it serves you well,” he replied, turning back into the stoic character he appeared to be. “Now … about that offer of yours.”

I smiled and gestured my hand forwards, suggesting he lead the way to my new assignment.

There was something respectable about the Commander, I had to admit. Though I did not know much about him, I knew that the Inquisition could not have picked better. Even in our short conversation, he managed to make me feel seen and heard, even trusted. It gave me hope that he would not be the last, as I was truly honored to serve the Inquisition. I knew I would be more than happy to help him out with some training - even if it would only be temporary - because I found someone I could respect. 

* * *

“That’s right, now parry! Did you see how my movements hinted to what I would do? Yes … follow that, but be cautious, I could easily feint at the last moment. Don’t forget your proper stance,” I said sharply as I used my sword - with the blunted end - to fix the soldier’s position. I moved around him and straightened his back then buckled his knees slightly so that he could hold a firm posture. “Good. Now let’s try that again, this time, pirouette.”

I had been at this for a few hours now, but I hadn’t even realized until the Commander came over once again and stood nearby, watching and waiting. I finished the lesson soon after and let out an exuberant breath as I glanced over at him. I was feeling great about the progress that had been made today with teaching the soldiers some valuable skills. It had been a long couple of hours, but I had been impressed with each and every trainee and their abilities. I merely helped in the areas that they seemed to be lacking. I let my sword dig into the dirt as I leaned on it for support while the Commander neared towards me. 

“And here I thought you claimed to be less talented with a sword. None of my recruits are a match against you,” Cullen said with a look that showed he was surprised … and impressed.

“Perhaps I was being too modest. I’m not abysmal with a sword, however, I’m more comfortable with other weapons,” I answered honestly with a slight shrug of indifference. “Your recruits may not be able to keep up with me now, but they’ll get there. They’re all quite talented in their own right. My Clan valued all weaponry and fighting skills.”

That was not a lie at all. I remember spending entire  _ days _ with my mentor learning the proper way to block attacks. A typical day in the life of my Clan was spent practicing my skills for a minimum of four hours. I had learnt a lot, but it did feel repetitive when I grew older and more rebellious. It was especially frustrating when my other Clanmates did not have to resort to the same grueling attention as I did. The feeling had only angered me in my youth. I had no time to explore as they did, or converse and tell stories to each other. All my days were spent in teachings. Even now, I held a grudge against Him for putting me through what He did, because even though it made me into a remarkable warrior with no equal, I lost my childhood. Then again, no one really had a childhood … 

“Well, I appreciate everything that you have done to help us today and I know you have other duties to attend to, so you are free to go but … if you have time - tomorrow perhaps, after you’re packed for your journey, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again tomorrow - to help with some other trainees?” He suggested timidly and softly. 

I wiped the sweat from my brow and gave him an enthusiastic nod. “Yes, of course! I’ll see what I can do, but since I don’t have any other set plans tomorrow … I’m looking forward to it!”

I gave him a quick grin before putting the sword away and heading up the stairs. He was a great Commander who had a lot of heart from what I could see, it would be interesting to see him once again tomorrow, but I was more excited about helping out the other recruits. I was not sure what it was, but a strong part of me loved helping others whenever I could, and training was one way where I could do just that. Perhaps it was the wish for atonement that made me feel such a way. It was almost a shame that I would be leaving for Crestwood so soon, but the chance of an adventure was just as thrilling. It was when I reached the top of the stairs that I remembered I wanted to search the library. 

It was already late in the afternoon, I had not realized just how much time had gone by when I was at the training grounds. I had a few hours before dinner, so perhaps I could skim through a few books before then. I could always study late into the night if I had to, and it would not be the first time if I fell asleep while reading a dreadfully boring book like Sister Clara’s “ _ Walk through Herbal Techniques _ ”. At least the stories sometimes helped me sleep better. I could exhaust myself so much with reading that I would not quite realize I was asleep. Then a new day would begin and I would feel much more refreshed than I would have been.

I wondered if I could take some of the books to my room as well? That would make things much easier … I would have to ask someone. I did not want to give Leliana an excuse to accuse me of stealing books of all things. 

I walked quickly up the stairs in the tower. Still, there were no presences in the mural room, despite the fact that someone was clearly staying in there. I was curious, but I moved on, not wanting to rifle through a stranger’s belongings. Though the glowing stone with a skull looked rather interesting ...

I stopped just short of a man as I arrived at the first bookshelf. I began to skim my slender fingers across the shelves, pausing at a couple books to pull them away and flip through the pages to see if it pertained to any information that could prove useful. More often than not, I put the book back. I only collected one book from the first shelf titled: “ _ Tales of the Destruction of Thedas _ ” by Brother Genitivi, I had read a couple of his works before, given that he was one of, if not  _ the most _ famous writer in Thedas. I guessed that this particular novel could be helpful in learning more about the Grey Wardens, as I did spot a mention towards the First Blight, and even if there was no useful information, it would still be an enlightening read.

“Something caught your eye, I see?” asked the man beside me.

I looked up and got a good look at the man for the first time. I had never cared to notice him much before, but now I saw that he was well-groomed and had a spectacular head of dark hair, which grandness was matched only to that of his moustache thay had been meticulously curled at the ends. He was lean, but still had a bit of muscle and appeared to have a taste for high fashion. His grandeur appearance made me believe he was Antivan for a moment, but his accent was throwing me off that trail. I could not pin-point him down. I had never seen his like before. 

“Yes … what would you say is the acceptable amount of books to carry back to my room with me?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could.

The man acted as if he were in deep thought, putting his finger to his mouth as he did so in a dramatic fashion, “I don’t know … if I had to guess, I would have to say twenty.”

“Good! Good … I can fall somewhere in that limit.”

I knew the man was joking of course, twenty would be far too many books. Besides, I could not carry that many to begin with. Not to mention, I would look like a total idiot if I even attempted it. I liked this man’s sarcastic attitude, however, he had a charming quality to him even though he appeared to be slightly arrogant. I was not used to having this many friendly conversations in one day, to be perfectly honest. I hoped that I was acting in a way that I should, especially with the spies watching me.

“I’m Dorian, by the way. A recent addition to the Inquisition as well,” he admitted, his dark eyes glinting playfully in the lamplight. “I joined just before the attack at Haven. Nasty business, that was.”

“How did you know I was a recent addition?” I asked curiously.

I picked another book off the next bookshelf, the man’s gaze seemed to follow me as I opened up the book to skim through a few passages. I was trying to appear a little disinterested, even though my eyes were not taking in the words they were seeing. I may not be looking at him, but my attention was set fully upon this man. I could not help wondering what his role in the attack at Haven had been. He was not dressed like the mercenaries or spies at Skyhold, so perhaps he was a part of the Inquisitor’s inner circle as well? That, or he hated uniforms. Both of those options seemed very likely.

“I could say that word travels fast around here. But the truth is that the Herald told me himself when he came down after your meeting. That is, after I asked him about it first. I suppose you are looking for books about Crestwood, perhaps? I’ve already taken the liberty of pulling some off the shelves for you. It can be incredibly  _ boring _ up here, you know,” He said with an air of superiority, but there was a gentleness behind it as well.

“You were expecting that I would be here?” I asked with surprise.

“Yes, actually. And you’re late.”

The words he spoke caused me to grin with amusement. He led me over to his small pile of books, about four in all, and some appeared to have a little information about the Grey Wardens as well, given the titles on the spine. A couple were thick, heavy volumes, but I placed Brother Genitivi’s on top to complete the set. The man had definitely saved me a lot of time with this, but I had a feeling he did not just grab these books for my own benefit, in fact, he had probably read some of them himself. It didn’t matter, either way, I was still grateful. Was everyone in this Inquisition so  _ nice?  _

“Thank you for this, I really appreciate it.”

The man gave a quick wave of his hand, “it was no bother at all. Do not be afraid to call on Dorian of House Pavus for any of your future reading endeavors.”

His moustache seemed to twitch a little at his words, as if he was stifling a smirk. His name definitely did not sound Antivan, but perhaps I could try and find a few books on lineage later on to figure out where he came from.

Or I could ask him, like a normal person.

But not today. I kept him in the back of my mind as I carried my stack of books down the stairs very carefully. Some of the larger volumes made it harder to see clearly, and I did not feel like tripping down the stairs and making a complete fool of myself in the process. It would be best to read them in my own quarters, as the cawing sounds from the ravens above would grate on my nerves after a while. I needed to read these as quickly as I possibly could, perhaps I would even stay up late tonight to do so.

As I walked through the mural room, I heard a voice come from right in front of me. As I could not properly see the person behind my large stack, I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid I was going to run into him. The shock of my quick movement caused  _ Tales of the Destruction of Thedas  _ at the top to slip forwards and tip, as though it were about to fall. 

Suddenly, there was a hand underneath my own while the other pushed the volume at the top back into place, stabilizing the pile. I felt my cheeks blush slightly with embarrassment as I slowly lowered the books to face the man who had surprised me, and to offer my apologies. 

Then I found myself staring into the blue-gray eyes of an elf, and everything looked different. 


	3. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I studied him as he sat across from me. Our encounter earlier had been brief, and I had been so flabbergasted that I did not spend the time to fully gaze upon him. But during this conversation I was able to fully realize his calm demeanor, philosophical nature, intellect, and even wit. Not to mention his high cheekbones and strong jawline, or the tiny freckles that dotted his angular face, but these factors were hardly important. I knew that this was perhaps the only person whom I could share in a conversation with that could last for hours. The thought was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to everyone for such a delay in posting this chapter. There was a recent death in my family that required me to travel, and the grieving has been tough. The next chapter should not take quite as long to be posted. Thanks to everyone for sticking around! I still have a few chapters ready and only in need of editing, so rest assured there is more coming.

He was an elf. I could see that clearly but he was not Dalish, as he had no vallaslin on his face. And yet there was a wisdom in his eyes that told me he was no city elf. He certainly did not look like one either, from what I remembered city elves looking like. He was dressed in the clothes of a wanderer, a traveler. They were of a beige colour, knitted, with leather lining and a green undershirt. Most importantly, they were clean and well-made for warmth. I never knew a city elf to wear clothes that were not tattered and torn. If he was not from an alienage or a Dalish clan then who was he? I did not even realize just how long I had been staring at him in silence. Had he said something? No … I did not think so. Was he analyzing me as well?

I licked my lips slowly as I tried to find the right words. Why was I here again? Oh … right, the books. His hand over mine was gentle, but dry and only slightly rough, as though he spent a lot of time reading and holding some kind of weapon, but not a sword, given that he was free from callouses. I could not quite figure him out. He was harder to read than even the spymaster herself, in a way. At least with Leliana I knew what to expect, but I had never seen a man of this type before.

"I – My apologies … I had no idea that – well, I should have been paying more attent-"

"I believe that I am the one who should be apologizing to you," The man interrupted, and frankly, I did not mind at all. "Your vision was obscured when I spoke to you, that was unwise of me."

How did I manage to sound like such a blubbering fool? As though I had just been in an earthquake and was stuck in the aftershock. Completely embarrassing. I was normally well put-together - not the type to be startled. I did not particularly enjoy this new feeling as I have _always_ been on my toes, prepared. There had been a shiver sent up my spine and I froze. The words that came out of my mouth did not even sound like proper English to me. Yet his response sent a calm wave through my body, and I allowed myself to relax a little. His voice was smooth and he was incredibly articulate. The kind of voice that you could listen to for hours and never get bored of it.

I nearly laughed at his response. We were both apologizing over nothing really, now that I thought about it. He seemed to smile at me and let his hands go from the books, but he picked up the top one to take a closer look at it. While he was reading the title I attempted to study him more. He moved with grace and purpose, as though each action he made had meaning. His sharp and high cheekbones were all the more prominent with his lack of hair, but his entire demeanor was one of intelligence.

"I understand you will be travelling with us to Crestwood. What are your opinions on the Inquisition so far?" He asked gently.

I tried my best not to roll my eyes with exasperation, instead, I took a deep breath before I spoke, "what I have gathered is that everyone knows of me but they do not know me. Am I correct in that assumption?"

The man chuckled a little at my response as he put my book down. I could not resist the urge to smile as well, something I had not done yet, although Dorian nearly had be betray my façade earlier. I felt my guard slipping away with this sage, perhaps it was because he was treating me with a touch of caution, or how his honeyed laughter resonated in my mind. I had not seen another elf for quite a long time, and if I had, they had been city elves; the type of elf who was very different from myself. Then again, no Dalish elf was raised in the manner that I was, and I had been away for far too long to truly be considered Dalish.

"Yes, you are indeed. The Inquisitor himself spoke with me immediately after your meeting to ask me a few questions, as did Leliana's spies. It appears that you have made quite the impression on them, and I must admit I am rather … curious, myself. It is not often that a Dalish elf leaves her clan so willingly," the man spoke, his eyes boring into me now with a ferocious intensity. Though he did not say much else, there was a density in the air that told me he was leaving more unsaid.

"No, it is not," I replied simply and set my books down before I straightened myself up, deciding to change the subject quickly. "So … since you already know who I am, I would not mind knowing who it is I am speaking to. A name would suffice, then I could properly apologize for almost running into him."

He did not waste a single word, and it felt as though he was saying more than he was. He was ambiguous. There was no other way of putting it. Though he was not as forceful as Leliana was, he did want to know why I left my clan, I could see that look in his eyes, the interest. Perhaps one day I may have to tell the tale, for I know that there will come a time where they must know my origin. But not today. Especially not with a man I had just met. If the Inquisition knew who I was, I would be cast out immediately. I needed to gain their trust first. Though such things were impossible to control as there were many outside factors that could compromise such a thing. The truth would come out eventually, I could only hope that it would happen under the right circumstances.

The look on his face meant that he understood what I meant with my blunt reply and knew I had changed the topic on purpose. He would not press it any further, and I appreciated that about him. He appeared to be more worthy of my trust than anyone I had met so far. Though whether or not I could trust him remained to be seen. I had to be constantly vigilant, even here. Perhaps especially here.

He tilted his head slightly at me with a grin crossing his features very vaguely, "my name is Solas. I shall not keep you from your duties any longer. I suspect we will have more of a chance to speak on our journey. However, should you feel the need to ask certain questions about … _anything_ , my door is open for you."

The look that he gave me in that moment made me wonder if he had figured me out … but that would have been impossible. Still, I had a feeling that he knew something about me, but there was a polished tone to his words that I could not help relishing in. I tried not to read too much into what he said, and hopefully he would not live to regret that gesture, as I had a hunger for knowledge that could never be satisfied.

"Ma serannas," I replied, expressing my gratitude at the invitation. As I gathered my books once again, I knew I was being dismissed, but when I looked back at him, we both knew that it would not be a final goodbye for the day.

He gave me a simple nod in response and walked towards the desk in the middle of the room. I knew then that he understood our language, which was generally only spoken by the Dalish. How peculiar … it appeared as though I was not the only one who had a colorful elven background. I had never met anyone like Solas before, which brought on a strong desire to know more. I tired not to look back at him as I walked out the wooden door, but I could not help it. When I saw that he had chanced another look at me while I was leaving, I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as well as satisfaction.

Perhaps I was not the only one who wanted to know more.

* * *

It had been hours since I started on my books and yet I could not find my concentration. At first I had hardly realized I was reading the same sentence for five minutes. I was completely unable to stop thinking about that encounter. Well, _encounters_. I had met a lot of interesting people today and I could not shake the strange feeling I had, though I could not put a name on it.

I found myself constantly glancing out of the window to gaze upon the castle, thinking about it all.

Eventually, I got through most of my books (some I only had to read passages from while others I read the near entirety of the book) and when that time came, my candle was no more than a stub. I was not tired, however. I had read a lot in these books and found a few more interesting facts about Crestwood or a little more information on the elusive Wardens, but I was still not satisfied. Now that the tower I was residing in began to fill with many chatty people preparing for bed, finding any chance to truly concentrate would be slim to none. I would not fall asleep in my own bedroll any time soon if I wanted to.

So it was decided, then. I flipped through the last pages of my book then grabbed my stack once more. I headed back towards the castle library. I avoided all the scaffolding as I went though a separate door so that I would not disturb Solas. When I climbed the stairs I went through the left frame, though I was curious about what lay behind the other. When I opened the large wooden door I noticed that there were no people left in the room; perhaps it was later than I thought? Still, the peaceful quiet made the perfect climate to read in.

I grabbed one of the lit candlesticks to help illuminate the books on the shelves. It guided me across the rows as I slipped an interestingly-titled volume off the shelf. I spent at least another hour or two reading through more passages and chapters in the books I found, thankful for a chance to read in silence; I had to take advantage of the situation. However, I became increasingly frustrated as some authors contradicted other facts that I had read previously. I always knew to take the information I read with a grain of salt in most cases, but this was beginning to give me a headache as I tried to figure out which was real.

For example, a book I had read earlier about the Fifth Blight stated that the Hero of Ferelden had killed Loghain herself while another book claimed that it had been King Alistair. It was only a small detail, yes, but no less annoying. How could I be sure if I should discredit most of my findings from a particular book? I suppose if I really wanted to know the truth I could always ask a few old contacts of mine - I had not attended the Landsmeet during the Blight, after all - but I was not bothered by such a minor incident.

It was harder to find information on the Grey Wardens as so much of their order was kept secret. They were still quite fascinating, however, and without the King and Queen of Ferelden, all the lands would be tainted with the Darkspawn by now. However … I had to admit the fact that they would do anything to stop a Blight was a big statement, and that was not always a good thing. Though I had been taught otherwise, I personally believed that the ends should _not_ always justify the means. I pondered this for a while.

It was no wonder why they were such a secret order considering their motto: "In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice." They kept a constant watch for a new Blight, but the strongest and most horrifying words were the last. It meant that they would sacrifice everything to stop a Blight, that they would give their lives or more if they had to. The fact remained regardless, that they were a necessary order.

I had been so caught up in my reading and pondering that I had not even noticed I was no longer completely alone.

"Found anything of interest?"

I snapped my head up quickly at the voice. My whole body had tensed up in an instant, being caught off guard once again. My shoulders relaxed, however, when I saw that it was only Solas once again. I should have known immediately. At my reaction, the man merely chuckled, but I only grew agitated and a little annoyed.

"It seems you have a fun little habit of sneaking up on people," I replied with a snap as I shut my book.

"My apologies, once again. Though I'd have thought, being who you are, that you would have learned to expect such things," Solas quipped coolly.

He found a way to insult me, and in despite of myself, I grinned. He was right, of course. Normally I am always on my guard, even when reading a book. Why was it that he was able to sneak up on me so easily? No one else could do it, in fact. I could sense a presence before they even opened a door or stepped over a log. I liked to say that it was because I had fantastic hearing but … well, it was more of intuition than anything.

"You are not wrong … perhaps it is my nerves. This day has been … different, than most," I responded truthfully. It was strange for me to be so out of character, almost especially in a new place. It had to be me, I could not blame him as the reason, as he could get the wrong idea. "I hope I did not wake you … I was not trying to me loud at all I was just –"

But he held up his hand to silence me, showing an amused look in his eyes that I had not seen before. "Not quite. I heard you walk up the stairs, nothing more. I merely came up to find a book to read before I journeyed the Fade once more. Sleep has been eluding me this night it seems."

At his mention of the Fade I grew curious. He spoke about dreams very differently than most, as though he were a mage of some kind. But even I had not heard of a mage talk about the Fade with such enthusiasm tinted in their voice as he now did, as though he looked forward to dreaming every night. I wish I could say the same as my dreams were rarely peaceful; but that was of my own fault. Still, I wanted to understand his take on the realm of dreams. From the little I could guess about him, he appeared to be wise in every way imaginable, and though I did not want to keep him from getting a descent rest, I could not sate my interest.

"When you say that you explore the Fade, does that mean you exert some active control of your dreams?" I asked.

Solas stared at me, seemingly in deep thought before he answered, "in a way, yes. I control my own self, my actions, my words. I shape the world around me, but it is defined by the spirits of those who live in it. If I were to go to Ostagar I could see the imminent darkspawn threat with the people rallying behind their glorious King. I could see a commander who betrayed his King or a teryn who did not wish to sacrifice the lives of his men for a hopeless war."

"So you see what the people lived through, then? From their own perspective? That is … incredible," I breathed, my eyes lighting up with fascination. "I can only imagine the things you must have seen, the places you must have been, the spirits you would have met! Only in my wildest dreams could I picture something like that. Pun intended."

Solas chuckled lightly at my response, seemingly entertained by my reaction or my terrible pun, I could not tell which. I wished such a thing was easy for anybody as I did not have normal dreams, they were more like nightmares. If I could dream in the way he could, it would change everything. I could possibly get some answers for questions that I held as long as I could remember.

Perhaps I could even explore as he has. Instead of reading from a history book I could experience it firsthand. I could see the siege of Redcliffe, experience the moment when the dead came from the castle, I could watch the Hero of Ferelden conquer the dead during the last night. Or I could watch the Champion of Kirkwall stand against a mad Knight Commander. While it would be horrifying to see such things, just being there would give an insight that no book could gather for me. I was not jealous of Solas for being able to dream in this way, I only wished that I could learn to do the same.

"So this must mean that you are a – oh … what is the term?" I asked rhetorically as I thought through my vocabulary. "A dreamer? They're very rare, mainly because they are like a beacon for demons, only those with a strong sense of willpower are able to resist demonic possession. But dreamers do not need lyrium or blood magic to enter the Fade."

Solas put his fingers together as he eyed me closely with what looked like curiosity. "I am impressed. And you are not a mage, or an apostate by chance? This particular branch of lore is only studied by avid learners of the magical arts, or in the case of the Dalish, your Keepers. Even then, your people do not read much. How did you learn of this?"

I grew nervous under his gaze, and I hastily pushed my hair behind my left ear, "I just really enjoy reading, my Clan was not like most. They saw the value in written words, as speaking stories leaves too much room for interpretation. Much of my upbringing revolved around learning to read and write. I suppose this turned to my benefit because I truly wish to know more about the world. There are very few subjects I am not well-versed in. Although geography is a bit of a bore. And arithmancy. I had a very good education, more than most elves that I know of. I cannot remember exactly where I heard of dreamers, perhaps in a conversation or-or a book, maybe? It would not be the first time I had read a tome of the arcane arts."

Solas stared at me more intensely over his fingers as I rambled on. The look that he gave me made me wonder if he was able to read my mind, but I knew this was impossible. Still, it was penetrating of the most severity. Perhaps he knew that I was holding something back. I could not dare let anyone find out the truth, however. I suddenly wished that I had not said a word on the subject. Knowledge came with a price, one that I had learnt very quickly. I was a talented liar, but I held no lies in my words, only secrets. My stuttering words would have given away my weak reasoning, but I had to avoid telling of certain facts.

Yet he did not comment on this. I knew a man like him would not forget, but he did not press it further, and for that I was grateful. Despite this, I knew that he was aware I was not telling the entire story.

"So you share an interest in magic? I find that to be very … wise," Solas remarked as he folded his hands in his lap. I found a hint of a smile on his features as his blue-grey eyes danced in the candlelight with a spirit I had not seen before.

"History is perhaps one of my favourite subjects. But yes, it is important to learn a bit of everything. While I do not agree with the Qun, for instance, not wanting to know about it can be portrayed as ignorance, correct? It is healthy to know how the world works, and in my line of work it has proven more useful than any other skill. Though, I would not recommend my career in any fashion, nor would I claim that to be my reason to seek out knowledge – I just find it to be a great benefactor to success. Magic is a mystery to me, but that only makes it more alluring and seductive. Like a candied apple to a child, or a bard to a lowly merchant. Not always attainable, but I crave it all the more."

My fingers flicked through the pages of the book in front of me, feeling the dry pages as I thought about my own words. When I glanced upon his face then, I noticed a dark look he had that was quite different from what I had seen before – and I could not explain how my words could have changed his demeanor, it was not an evil look – but something else entirely, as though he were truly engaged in thought. I shut my book and pushed it aside, knowing that I would not be participating in any more reading tonight, not with the stimulating conversation I was currently taking part in. This was more intriguing to me than even the great Game, and I was relishing every moment. I was normally unable to speak about such things with other people. No one else was interested in my philosophies, they just wanted to see how well I could fight or kill. I had a feeling that he felt the same way as I did about knowledge. That such thing should be treasured and learnt through and through. I wondered then if he enjoyed reading as much as I did. In that moment I wished I could reach into his mind to see everything that he knew of this world, as I was fully aware he had to be much more well-versed than I.

I studied him as he sat across from me. Our encounter earlier had been brief, and I had been so flabbergasted that I did not spend the time to fully gaze upon him. But during this conversation I was able to fully realize his calm demeanor, philosophical nature, intellect, and even wit. Not to mention his high cheekbones and strong jawline, or the tiny freckles that dotted his angular face, but these factors were hardly important. I knew that this was perhaps the only person whom I could share in a conversation with that could last for hours. The thought was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

"I agree with your sentiments. If you wish to know more about magical theory I would be more than happy to pass on my knowledge," Solas offered with a deep look in his eyes. Again, the man was being ambiguous, but I was unable to resist such an offer.

"I would appreciate that very much. Whenever you have the spare time, of course," I added hastily. My heart was racing at the opportunity to learn more about the subject I truly desired, especially from someone as informed as him. It was an incredibly generous offer that I could not turn down – the thought of a preposterous option as rejecting such a thing never even crossed my mind.

I coughed then, to clear my throat. I was aware how unfair it was to keep him up so late, but questions continued to pop inside my head. Though I did not wish to give Leliana any more reason to suspect me, I still wanted to know more about the Inquisition. It was in my nature to learn as much as I could.

"Now, I would understand if you cannot answer this, but I know that the Inquisition is battling some opposing force. I heard details of a dragon in the attack at Haven and I am no fool – someone would have been responsible for what happened at the Temple of Andraste and Redcliffe, the fact that the Herald has the mark cannot be mere coincidence in all of this. I just want to know, well, what are we up against?"

Again, he took another moment to think of an answer, and for a moment I thought that he would refuse to tell me. But when he spoke, I held on to every word, "I am sure you are at least aware of the Chantry's stories – so I will answer without further explanation of their religion. If at any moment you are confused, I will elucidate … You are correct, there is a man behind this, one who claims to be one of the ancient magister's who entered the Black City. He calls himself Corypheus. He first showed himself at Haven, controlling the dragon that you spoke of – we believe it to be an archdemon, but we cannot be certain."

"Is this why we are seeking the Grey Warden contact then?" I asked, and with the look in his eyes I received my answer before he gave me the subtle nod, and another question plagued my mind. "If the Wardens have vanished, how is it that we found one with a possible lead?"

I saw then a flicker in his features. Perhaps he wondered if he was able to say? I felt as though I had over-stepped my boundaries. Normally I would flesh out as much information as possible without feeling any guilt – being a spy and who I was required you to cut off your emotions, after all. However, it almost felt sacrilegious here. But Solas seemed to throw his caution to the winds when he spoke, as though a small part of him trusted me enough to risk it. Why he felt so, I could not guess.

"There is a member within the Inquisitor's circle who recognized Corypheus when he revealed himself. He called upon the one who had fought Corypheus before: The Champion of Kirkwall. It was after this meeting between the Champion and our Inquisitor that we were informed about our location of interest."

As I processed Solas's words, I found myself with more questions than I started with. It made sense that we would seek out the Grey Wardens if this Corypheus truly commanded an archdemon, as they were the only ones who could slay the dragon, after all. But was that the only reason we sought them out? Was it at all possible that the Wardens knew about Corypheus as well? If this really was an archdemon, why were no lands infested with darkspawn? I had lived in Ferelden during the start of the Blight ten years ago and it was nothing like this, even at the beginning. This was more … secretive, sinister even. Back then it was complete terror and mayhem. So was this dragon really an archdemon, or something different altogether? And how was this Corypheus able to control a dragon to begin with? I had never heard of such a feat, even those who attempted to breed dragons were unable to control one once they were big enough. Even with magic, as dragons generally had very large amounts of willpower. It would take many powerful mages to do such a thing and even then …

"So … this magister claims to have entered the Black City. I believe that according to the Chant of Light, this would mean that he is one of the first darkspawn but … how is that even possible?" I asked, shaking my head as I furrowed my brows with concentration. "What exactly does this Corypheus want? And what did he do at the conclave?"

"It would appear so, but no one can claim such certainty. What we are aware of is that he possesses magic, and the ability to control a dragon, regardless of whether or not it is an archdemon," Solas answered. "From what I understand, he wishes to strengthen the Tevinter Empire and, in so doing, destroy this world in the process. As for the events at the conclave, we can only guess – we still do not know the full details. It was confirmed that he was responsible for the Divine's death. Why, however is another question to which there is no answer yet."

I licked my lips and stared off into the flame in front of me, reflecting upon every word. I had no reason to doubt his answers, and while I was glad he answered all my questions, I found myself even more troubled than I started off with. The situation was much more dire than I had anticipated, and nothing at all which could have been expected. Still, there were questions left unanswered. Was Corypheus's only motive for killing the Divine to launch Thedas in disrepair? She was the most powerful woman in Thedas, but a new Divine could always be elected, eventually. Perhaps it was her death which would pave the way for his future plans. The magic that he knew had to be old and powerful, and it was not completely hard to believe that he really was who he claimed to be. Even though I was no Andrastian, I had never heard of such magic before. Perhaps in time there would be more answers to all the unanswered questions, but for now I would settle with this.

To bring Tevinter back to it's former glory, however … now that was a terrifying thought. I had read and heard countless stories about the Empire, and each word was blackened. I partly wondered if it was merely Chantry propaganda, but I was also aware of how dangerous magic could be. However, I did not agree with the idea of locking up mages in a tower for their entire lives. The idea of forcing people away when they were young just because they had magic seemed cruel, to be someone who will never see their family again – who can never live a normal life, seems more like a punishment for being who they are. The Circle sounded more like a prison than a place of learning.

"So then … what happened at Redcliffe, I assume Corypheus was involved?" I asked.

Solas nodded gravely, "when we arrived at Redcliffe to ask the mages for help, we found that the Magisters of Tevinter had arrived there before us – under coincidental circumstances. There was a boy, the son of Magister Alexius, who slipped the Inquisitor a message. We met with his fellow conspirator, Dorian, who informed us that Alexius had used time magic to ensure he would arrive before we would. After confronting Alexius … he sent the Inquisitor into the near future. I did not travel to this alternate timeline but soon after the Inquisitor appeared again, and Alexius surrendered. It appears as though he was working for Corypheus, attempting to supply him with an army of mages. It was unfortunate that by helping the mages, we were unable to receive aid from the Templars. By doing this, they were left to the will of Corypheus. We were left with a small advantage, however, as we are now aware of his next moves. The Inquisitor saw the dark future that lay before us, and we must do what is necessary to prevent that from happening."

I grimaced at the thought of what this world would have looked like with Corypheus left unchecked. The breach would have swallowed us whole, probably. Would there have been much of this word left? With no one to properly stop it – no one to close the rifts – I could not imagine much of a future at all. The Inquisitor held the only key to closing the breach that we were aware of. Because of him, the Inquisition was the most important organization in Thedas. It was angering that people were still arguing amongst themselves or were against our plight when it really was the only option to save the world. Did people really not understand that?

"Well, it is always better to be a couple steps ahead of the enemy, being prepared is key," I replied with a light-hearted grin even though my insides were churning. "Ma serannas, by the way, for spending this much time answering my questions at such a late hour."

"The pleasure was mine. I must admit I found our conversation to be an enjoyable one. Speaking with you has been most enlightening." Then Solas blinked slowly and his tone changed. "Besides, we shall be travelling together for a while, I suspect, and I see no wrong with understanding our companions better."

I thought of the meaning behind his words as I stood up and gathered my things. I was finally starting to feel the weariness creep up on me, and the desk did not seem like the most comfortable pillow. It was often for me to get very little sleep, but I could not avoid my nightmares forever. Once I was ready, I took one last look at Solas, who was gazing back at me with interest. Part of me wanted to stay and talk with him until the sun rose, but I knew that would not be fair to him. Still, I could see a kindness there behind the wisdom.

A thought struck me in that moment when I was halfway to the door, one that chilled me to the bone, but I played it cool as I gazed at the candlelight. "You said that Corypheus attempted to gain the mages and templars advantage. Do you know if he called upon other potential allies?"

Though I was not looking at him now, I could feel his eyes burning into my entire being. My mind was beginning to return to a darkened place. One where only death and destruction would follow, where fear gripped at my soul as I prayed for the dreaded answer to be only one.

"It is entirely possible … but the Inquisitor has never spoken about a higher threat."

So I received an answer and yet not an answer. I was not sure what I was hoping for. The sick feeling in my stomach did not disappear. My worst fears were not confirmed, but I still had a feeling – it was not over yet.

I plastered a smile to my face as I turned back to look at him, attempting to let the feeling ebb away as I spoke my next words with a sincere generosity, "I hope you find atish'an in mala theneras." _Peace in your dreams_.

He stood up from his chair, smiling gently back at me in kind. "And onto you as well, lethallan."


	4. Special Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I woke up in a sudden cold sweat and immediately sat up. The images of Harven's demise replaying over and over in my head. I pushed my fingers through my hair and gripped as hard as I could, as if I could pull them out. It had been nothing but my own recklessness that had killed Harven so many years ago; he had saved a special death just for me - the first I had ever regretted.
> 
> But certainly not the last.

_"Da'len, focus!"_

_I snapped out of my reverie as I glanced over at Harven crouched on the branch beside me. His face was stern and his lips curled in annoyance, a look he often had when I was around. The man did not want me on this scouting trip, but He had insisted, and part of me wished I was still at camp. Harven was not a patient teacher, he and I often argued with each other, but he was one of our best warriors._

_He was the tallest of us elves, as tall as a shemlen, actually. His chestnut hair was incredibly long and he maintained two braids at the front, but all his hair could not hide his large pointed ears. He would be quite handsome if he wasn't sneering all the time. I never liked the steely eyed look he had, or the way he spoke to me, as if I were still a little child. I had heard Him suggest that Harven take part in the Rite for Crown, and the thought made me weak to my knees - purely because I believed he could truly pass the challenge._

_"I am focusing!" I snapped at him, gripping tightly onto the bark and feeling the prickly splinters dig underneath my nails._

_"Is that so? Then what can you tell me?" He challenged with a smug, determined look on his face._

_I grimaced at him as I looked off into the distance, seeing only the dense trees and a dirt path below us. Everything went silent so that I could only hear the wind ... and distant footsteps. I waited another few seconds and heard the voices, there were three - no - five of them. Five and a dog. What they were doing so deep in the woods, I did not know. Scouting never required an answer to such questions - just action._

_"There are five shemlen and a dog approaching, no bears or wolves nearby. They are heading right towards us," I replied with a dignified smirk._

_Harven glared at me, seemingly annoyed that I had answered correctly. Then he sighed and his features softened as he looked towards Deymen and gave the nod. The rest of our scouting party readied themselves in case the shemlen came too close. It wasn't long until the group came into view. There were three men, one woman and ... a child._

_My breath caught in my throat as I held up a quiet hand to Harven. But he refused to listen to my protests as he readied his bow. My face blanched and Harven's cold brown eyes looked at me as he bared his teeth._

_"You know the rules, lethallan," he whispered in a harsh, raspy tone._

_"We can't do this, they're just refugees! There's a child with them, Harven, please," I pleaded quietly._

_But he pulled his bowstring back with determination, and as he aimed, so did the rest of my brethren. His fingers were beginning to let go, but he glanced at me. I saw him tighten once more on the string, but it was a moment too late as I had already rushed forwards to jump onto his branch._

_"No!" I yelled, causing a few birds to fly out of the nearby trees and the shemlen to gaze up at us._

_I hadn't realized that my hands had come into contact with his side. Between the noise and pressure, everything seemed to be moving so quickly, and then it all slowed down. The arrow went flying and pierced the little girl in the chest and as I looked over at Harven I saw him falling ... falling. Slowly. Looking up at me with wide eyes and a strange look that I had never seen before. As though he were petrified. His arms held out long in front of him, trying to reach for me._

_I couldn't hear anything over the sound of my own screams of " **H** **arven**."_

* * *

I woke up in a sudden cold sweat and immediately sat up. The images of Harven's demise replaying over and over in my head. I pushed my fingers through my hair and gripped as hard as I could, as if I could pull them out. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, and eventually I relaxed. I looked around and saw that everyone was still asleep. The sun had barely risen, and I could still see a few lingering stars through the window.

I gave myself a shake before I started to get ready, careful not to wake anyone else. I left the tower and made my way down to the training grounds. I often found that putting my hand to the sword after a particularly bad nightmare helped. It provided a distraction, and I could always picture His face whenever I slashed at a dummy, so it was therapeutic in a way.

No one was awake yet. I knew it would only be maybe a half hour until I saw some soldiers on the grounds. For now it would be good to spend a little time alone with no one watching just yet. Only one more day and we would be riding off for Crestwood. It was hard to believe how fast time moved, and how much had happened in a short amount of time. I was excited to start a journey on the road again, it was a life I was used to, but this time I would be doing some good in the world. It was about time that I attempted to make up for my past mistakes, even if I could never hope to fully redeem myself or feel better about what I did. At least I had come to the Inquisition with no ill will.

I pulled my daggers out from their sheathes on my back. I ran my thumb along the edges to check how sharp they were. It was sharp now, but I knew I would have to whet them again on the journey. I grinned to myself as I watched the nevarrite glint ever so slightly. I first practiced with my movements for a few minutes, twirling the daggers in my hands and balancing them as best I could. It had been almost a week since I had used them, but I liked to warm up with them before I began slicing.

Once I was ready, I headed over to the sack dummy and started. Whenever I began practicing on a dummy, my first attacks were always too light and slow. I never had the issue against a real opponent. Perhaps it was complacency or just trying to get a true understanding of how to attack an opponent that didn't move. That was part of the reason why I asked that recruit to run around with the target yesterday, I just couldn't practice properly. My attacks on the dummy started to get deeper now. The hay stuffing was beginning to poke out as I tried a few techniques, upper attacks and lower. A few times I would cut into the side, which was less powerful than my downwards attacks, but stronger than my upwards.

How long I practiced on the dummy, I wasn't sure. I only stopped when I used a scissor technique and the head lopped off. By now it was dawn, and the grounds were turning a beautiful golden color. I wiped my brow and started once more on the remnants of the dummy, all thoughts of my dreams had disappeared by now and were replaced with thoughts of Him.

His face was more terrifying than any dragon. Yet my anger fueled me with each swipe and stab. I kept fighting against the dummy until I heard someone walking up to me, the sound of heavy armor giving him away. I dug my daggers deep into the chest of the dummy so that they were poking out on the other side, but the man spoke before I even had a chance to turn around.

"You know, when I asked you to teach the recruits I didn't mean at the crack of dawn," He said with a light-hearted chuckle.

As I turned around I saw Commander Cullen there with his arms folded and leaning against a post, he had an impressed grin on his face. He must have been up earlier than I have been. He looked like he didn't get much sleep again but I didn't think he was particularly bothered about it. The thought of being in his shoes ... I knew it wasn't an easy job. But I was glad that he at least had a sense of humor, most Templar's that I had met were dry and stern.

I laughed as I let my arm rest on the shoulder of the dummy. "And here I was worried that you might be sleeping in too much! Glad to see I was wrong. Do you actually ever sleep? Or do you dream with your eyes wide open as you're listening to the evening reports?" I teased.

"I could say the same about you, I saw you leave the castle last night with books in your hands," Cullen quipped. "You looked like a walking corpse."

"Ouch. But that kind of proves my point that you don't rest either, doesn't it?" I asked rhetorically.

The Commander chuckled and gave a shake of his head. His look all too plainly said: touche. I was surprised he was up as late as I was, he must have a descent view of the castle from his lodgings if he managed to spot me leaving it. I didn't mind, however. I knew countless people would be watching me, and I was okay with that, I understood. I would do the same thing if I were in their shoes.

Yet I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the commander, to be working so hard. The Inquisition was in good hands, but he carried a heavy burden. It was people like him that inspired others, to make them really understand the true threat we were facing.

"I was thinking it would be good for you to start on some of our senior soldiers today, to see what can be improved. The recruits don't normally start until a few hours after, but I've noticed a select few of our well-trained soldiers are forgetting the proper footwork and techniques. The recruits still need work with proper hand placement and aim as well. Come find me before lunch for your report," Cullen said as he stepped away from the post. "And ... thank you again, for all your help."

Then he cleared his throat and walked away as some of the soldiers began to cross onto the field.

* * *

Training the soldiers was something that made me feel better about myself. It was only the second day and part of me wished I wasn't leaving tomorrow so that I could stay here and help. But I could never pass on the idea of an adventure. Still, seeing the improvement in these warriors made me feel like I was important - like I was really making an impact here. The senior soldiers didn't need much in regards to improvement - except for the things that the commander had pointed out. There were only about three of them that were taking a more relaxed standpoint.

They quickly realized that against a formidable opponent - like myself - they couldn't afford to be relaxed.

"Always keep your guard up. You never know when a blade could pierce you in the back. There's a reason they call it backstabbing. You need to be aware of all of your senses, not just your sight. One can always know if someone is behind them just by listening. It's not just demons out there, Corypheus is commanding an entire army of supporters," I explained, hoping that it would instill something within the soldiers. "But each one of you is worth ten of his warriors, as long as you remain focused and remember your training."

It seemed to work, they certainly looked more concentrated after my pep talk. I sparred with one of them as the others watched. I was able to block all of his attacks but his footwork was correct, he seemed to be worried about hitting me, however, he wasn't using as many techniques even though he knew them. It only went on like this for a few minutes, as I tried to push him into using his skills, but to no avail.

"Come on, hit me already. You need to feint an attack or charge at me. I could block your attacks all day at this rate, you're becoming predictable," I informed him with a stern look.

The man only nodded. I let out a breath as I sped up my attacks, pushing forwards so that he had no where to go but back. My intention was to rush him, and hope that the urgent attacks would launch him into action. It worked. Once he had no where to go he started pushing into me, sending attacks that were quick and precise, trying to swipe at me from below. It was not long before he had his sword to my throat and I dropped my weapon.

I grinned and clapped at him. "Well done Reinhardt! Major improvement there, I want you to keep that adrenaline going when you're practicing with Farrow. Excellent work!"

Reinhardt let out hefty breaths and gave me the thumbs up before he sat on the bench to get a drink of water. I called over Farrow and started all over again.

* * *

Teaching the recruits about weapons was certainly fun - but definitely risky. They did so well and I wanted to continue teaching them what I knew - but it was noon before I even knew it. I looked around to find the Commander, but he was nowhere to be found. I walked over to one of the officers, as I wasn't sure where to begin looking for Cullen.

"I'm supposed to give my report to the Commander, have you seen him?" I asked politely.

The officer looked at me lucidly with a clipboard in his hand, "in the tower, over there." He said and pointed upwards to the tower that was right across from the bridge that led to the castle.

I gave a nod of thanks to the officer before ascending the steps. While the tower looked quite close, it still took about five minutes for me to get to his door - damn the stairs. I knocked and waited a moment, but it wasn't long until I heard a honeyed voice from inside, allowing me to enter. As I looked to my left, I noticed that he did indeed have a good view of the castle's doors.

I opened the door to his quarters and saw the blonde man standing over his desk with papers scattered all over. He seemed to be reading something closely and didn't look up for a few moments until he had finished. When he saw me, I saw the faintest trace of a smile cross his features. He stood up proudly and held his hand subconsciously over the hilt of his sword.

"Ah, you've finished. The soldiers listen well to you, I think you'll be glad to hear that they command a certain respect for your skills and optimism," Cullen said, and when he noticed the look of confusion on my face he seemed to grin in spite of himself. "An officer came by with a progress report just before your arrival, and I saw a few moments from your training session earlier."

"Oh, right, I am glad to hear it. Well, in regards to your more experience soldiers, I find that the only issue was complacency. They knew all the techniques, but it was only when I pushed them harder that they put them to use. As for the recruits they now know the difference between the shaft and the hilt of a blade, and know how to properly shoot an arrow. Their aim still needs some work, but they have the basics down." I explained with my hands behind my back.

The Commander gave a nod of appreciation and marked off a couple notes on some parchment. I was proud of the soldiers in a way, in only a short amount of time they had improved and learnt so much. I found that I missed teaching others how to fight properly. I may have thrown in a few Dalish techniques by accident, but they learnt them well. It wasn't a bad thing to learn as much as one could.

"I appreciate the work you have done the past few days. I'm sure that there will be a lot you can do for us when you come back, if the Inquisitor allows it, of course. I suspect you'll have your hands full, but I wish you luck," Cullen said with a gentle smile on his face.

I nodded kindly at him and made my way to the door with a grin on my face, "try not to work too hard, Commander."

I heard his honeyed chuckle as I left his quarters and headed down the bridge towards the tower. Any last information I could gather on the wardens would be incredibly helpful. I walked into Solas's room and glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen. The words he spoke last night still resonated within me, and I couldn't get our conversation out of my mind. I had thought about it even on the training grounds, sometimes losing focus because of it. I was disappointed that he was not here, but I knew he would only be a distraction from my main course.

I needed to pack a few books for the trip, anyhow. I wouldn't be able to bring too many, but considering that Crestwood was about five days away, I would be able to get in some reading in the evenings and maybe morning if there was time. It never hurt to be prepared, and perhaps the books I bring could provide some crucial information for us.

I made my way up the stairs and passed by Dorian whom I gave a nod of acknowledgement, though I was not so certain he noticed me as he was busy flicking through pages. After learning about what he did for the Inquisition, I could understand why they allowed him to stick around. Without him, we wouldn't have the mages assistance. It made sense why I could not guess where he came from as well, I had never been to most places in Tevinter. I had heard enough about the lands and decided that given my heritage, it might not be the safest place to journey to.

I browsed through the last few bookshelves for anything that might be helpful on the journey. My fingers skimmed along the binds of the volumes, reading each one. I pulled out a few books: _A study of the Fifth Blight_ and _Ferelden: Folklore and History_ both written by Sister Petrine. I glanced through the pages quickly and knew they would be useful as I saw more information on the Wardens and Crestwood. I looked through the shelves more but there was nothing else that caught my eye.

Deciding that I had better pack these away before someone told me I couldn't take them, I made my way downstairs and found Solas there this time by his desk. I was glad that he hadn't surprised me, but not sure if I should start a conversation with him. I wanted to, but I didn't know what to say. It didn't seem to matter, however, as he looked up and saw me there. A gentle smile crossed his features as he stood up straighter and let his hands slip away from the wooden desk. I had forgotten how tall he was for an elf. Perhaps he was even taller than Harven.

"It is fortunate that you are here, I found something for you," He said as he crossed over to the other side of his desk and pulled out a book. I walked over quickly and set my books down as I gracefully took the volume he offered to me. It was one of the larger ones, and the pages were yellowed and frayed, but excitement crept up on me as I read the title. _Tales of the Wardens_ by Sister Manon. "I happened upon it after our conversation last night. It seemed only fair that I give it to you."

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed as I immediately flipped through the pages. "This will be important in understanding their habits and history. There might even be a few secrets in here, after all, they are the most secretive organization in Thedas. The Empress herself wouldn't be able to gain any true information if she really wanted it, but this is the next best thing. Thank you so much! This is a great help."

Solas let out a short laugh at my reaction, and as I looked up at him I saw a twinkle in those bluish eyes of his. It disappeared quickly however as he folded his hands behind his back. I closed up the book and set it on top of my pile, I would have to bring it with me on the trip, but I would read as much as I could of it tonight. I was glad that Solas found it for me, as he knew how important it was to gather as much information as possible.

I let out a cough as I picked up my pile, "walk with me?" I suggested, figuring it couldn't hurt to have his presence.

He seemed taken aback at my question, and I saw the surprise linger on his features. He was harder to read but ... he didn't seem to have any negative expressions about the simple question. In fact, he seemed flattered, if not happy. I walked with him into the throne room, thankful the volume wasn't so dusty. I'd hate to start sneezing in the main hall.

Then I heard a voice behind me.

"And here I was hoping you might introduce yourself, princess" the man spoke.

When I turned around I saw the dwarf from when I first came to the castle. He was blonde and stocky with his hair in a ponytail. He wore a shirt that showed off his chest hair, and while he didn't seem overly opulent, he certainly wasn't poor. He was also missing a big long beard that most dwarves fashioned. There was a playfulness in his eyes that made my curiosity grow. His voice was deep and mature, but I had a feeling that this man liked to joke around.

"Princess?" I asked, amusedly.

"It's just something I do, everyone around here has a nickname. You'll get used to it," the man said. "You can call me Varric, I suppose. The Herald was asking after you, can't say I know too many Dalish elves, though."

His nickname for me elicited a laugh. It was ironic, especially as the Dalish never held such titles or indeed command a monarchy of sorts. Comparing a keeper to a King was like an apple to an elephant. However, his name sounded familiar, and I tried to think of where I had seen or heard of a dwarf by that name. It was on the tip of my tongue as I frowned in concentration.

"Varric ... not as in Varric Tethras? Writer of _Hard in Hightown_ or the _Tale of the Champion_?" I asked, my eyes growing wide as I quickly set down my books on a nearby table to shake his hand, realizing immediately that was exactly who he was. "I'm a fan of your work! I had no idea you would be here with the Inquisition! Your _Hard in Hightown_ series are the best-selling books in years, even surpassing Brother Genitivi's _Travels of a Chantry Scholar_!"

My heart was beating faster by the minute. I didn't often read stories of fiction, but after reading his story on the Champion of Kirkwall I had to read his other works. He had a command of words unlike any I had ever seen. Meeting him for the first time was like meeting the Hero of Ferelden. I never knew I could feel so star-struck, but I was truly impressed by this turn of events.

The man only laughed and patted the back of my hand kindly before letting go, "in the flesh! I happened to be ... in the area, before the conclave, you could say and I decided to stick around, much to our Seeker's disapproval."

"There's a Seeker here?" I asked, surprised. The Seekers of Truth were an elite secretive order, I had never met one of their members before - and I was quite thankful I hadn't.

"Oh yes. There's all kinds of funny folk like you and I. There's a Grey Warden, a band of mercenaries, watch out for the Ambassador, though. She knows the right words to set you on a task you don't remember agreeing to," Varric replied with a light chuckle.

Part of me wished I had spent more time getting to know everyone, but even if I were here for a week I doubt I would have met them all. I didn't go out of my way to talk to people if I could help it. I wasn't good with the whole "small talk" thing. I could be a bit more reserved, but friendly when I needed to be. It seemed as though the Herald had taken people from all over, and I was definitely proof of that. At least he was willing to take the help wherever he could find it. I found that to be quite admirable of him.

"An Ambassador? Think she has the names of some nobles who wouldn't notice a few trinkets missing?" I joked.

"Oh believe me, I already tried that one. She politely advised me to stay away from the visiting dignitaries if I wanted to see another sunrise," Varric responded with a laugh.

It made sense that the Inquisition would have a political ambassador. She would be integral in gaining support and allies, as well as coin. The role would be important if the Inquisition were to succeed, especially if the Chantry was calling against the organization. Not many would oppose the Chantry, which was another reason why I had respect for the Inquisition. Perhaps when I came back from the trip I would get a chance to meet this ambassador.

"Say, have you been to Kirkwall? You look kind of familiar," Varric inquired suddenly.

"Oh ... yes, I have. Around the time of the Champion's rise to fame, actually. But I never met Hawke personally, maybe you saw me at the Hanged Man Tavern?" I mused.

While I hadn't recognized Varric at all, he did have a sense of familiarity. I hadn't stayed in Kirkwall too long as it had mainly been a long stop during my travels - and it was a good place to hide for a time. But the strained relationship with the Templars and Mages had been stressful enough. Not to mention the city guard had grown a lot stronger, which made my job a little harder. I racked my brain, trying to think of where I may have seen him, but decided that it must have been the tavern, I had frequented there quite a lot.

"Well you'll have to tell me all about your experiences over drinks later. All of us are getting together at the Heralds Rest before we head out to Crestwood, you're welcome to come," Varric invited.

I bit my lip and then smiled, unable to pass up an offer for drinks. We probably wouldn't have much on the road, and it would be nice to spend a warm night inside the tavern and listen to all the conversations. Besides, it wouldn't be terrible getting to know some more people. I had only met a few of them but I had a feeling that there were a lot more people involved in the Inquisitors inner circle.

I immediately looked over at Solas, "are you going?"

He seemed to be taken aback at that, "No - well, I had not really thought about it ..."

"Oh come on, Chuckles. Get out of that stuffy room of yours and join in some real conversation, it'll be good for you."

Solas only frowned at that, and I had to take that answer as a no. Shame, really, because I wouldn't mind having some more intellectual conversations over a pint of ale. The thought made me wonder what it was that he drank. Did he drink? I could see him with a glass of wine in his hand, but he did not strike me as the type of person to get drunk - though I was sure Varric would pay to see something like that.

Varric let out a heavy and disappointed sigh, "ah well, I tried. I hope I can count on you, we can see who drinks the other under the table first, hm?"

His response only made me laugh, "oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

And with that, Solas and I continued our walk once I had grabbed my books once again. We were quiet on the way, and I was lost in thought over the excitement of tonight. I could not remember the last time I had been invited to anything. I did like taverns, but somehow the idea of spending an evening there with someone to talk to felt much more enjoyable than standing in a corner to eavesdrop on some juicy gossip.

Eventually I started a small conversation with my companion about what I was hoping to learn in the books. There was so much about the Grey Wardens that I didn't understand. I had heard rumors that they drank darkspawn blood, but the idea seemed a bit ridiculous to me. Solas listened and even interjected his own thoughts as well. Too soon I arrived at my quarters and I looked to him with a wonder of how he came to join the Inquisition. He was so different from anyone I had ever met, elven or not.

We walked up the steps of the tower and soon reached my door.

"Well ... I will see you tomorrow, then?" I asked kindly, knowing that he would be coming with us on the journey. For that, I was glad, even if we would not be able to chat more tonight, there were more days in the near future where I could get to know him better.

"Indeed you will," Solas responded and stepped down once I entered my room. My mind was wrapped in thoughts of everything that had happened today, and what was to come.


	5. Come As You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are the one who will save the world."
> 
> "How can you possibly know that?" He asked.
> 
> When I looked into his eyes then, I could see a sadness there. He was haunted by it all. I knew that the burden he carried must have been a heavy one - there would be no one to ease his mind. His path was a lonely one, and there would be much pain and sorrow before it was over. There was one thing for certain: he was strong, and it was his strength that gave others the courage to keep fighting. I had heard the recruits when I was training them earlier and they truly believed in him and the cause. That was a good thing - they were not following on blind faith alone, they saw their leader and they knew he would guide them to salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this particular chapter and I'm quite happy with how it turned out! The next chapter may take a little while longer to come out as it wasn't as easy to write as this - but I will try to get through my writer's block as best as I can! Your kudos and comments serve as a true inspiration for me to keep going so thank you so much for that!

I hadn't been able to focus much on my readings. While _Tales of the Wardens_ was proving to be an enchanting read, I could not stop thinking about tonight, wondering who I might meet and if I could get to know the Inquisitor a little better - considering I had not seen him since my first arrival. Part of me was a little intimidated by him as he was, after all, my new boss. I knew I would have to be careful in my asking of questions - I did not want to receive too much reciprocating in that aspect. At least I could feel a little more at ease knowing that he was a figure worthy of respect.

The line: " _griffons - also known as aerials - went extinct during the Exalted Age_ ," kept replaying in my mind. I glanced out the window to stare at the nearby mountain, then gave myself a little shake as I tried to regain my focus. I shifted in my desk chair and pushed the book aside, pulling out my leather-bound black journal to write instead. I'd had a journal for almost every year since I had left my clan - I found a sense of solace in writing down my thoughts, plus it had proved beneficial to keep all my learned secrets in place. I wrote what had happened over the last few days: how I joined, training the soldiers, and meeting Solas. Somehow, he stuck out in my mind more than anything else had over the course of the last few days - there was something so different about him. I knew then that I must get to know him better, which was saying something since there was no personal gain in such a thing.

I wrote much into the day until the sun had gone down. The moment that I needed a candle was when I decided to stop. I packed up my books with the others, knowing it would be better _not_ to be scrambling in the morning before we headed out. It would not look good on my part if I was the last one to be ready. Now that I thought about it, going to the tavern would be a good idea after all; I was not aware when we would be setting off on our travels. I had assumed the crack of dawn but ... I wanted to be certain. Finding out _where_ we should meet would be my next question.

I glanced at myself in the mirror as I passed by it and immediately frowned, wondering if I should change into a different set of clothes - something that wasn't all dirty and sweaty from the training earlier. I pulled out my forest green long-sleeved tunic that had a brownish drawstring corset attached to the front, it wasn't very formal at all - but it was clean. I put it on and a pair of dark and tight trousers before I grabbed my cloak as well and put my hood up out of habit. It would not be cold in the tavern itself, but the night air would be nippy. As I gazed at myself in the mirror once again I was happier with what was looking back at me.

My feet walked down the steps of the tower as I held my cloak tightly to my chest to brace myself against the bitter air. The Frostback Mountains were always cooler than what I would prefer, but during the day at Skyhold the weather was surprisingly mild. In comparison to Haven, it was practically summer weather.

I could hear the music and ruckus as I got closer to the tavern. The wooden sign above the door swayed gently in the breeze. Herald's Rest, it was called. Quite fitting, I mused. The building blended in with the rest of the architecture so well that if I had not heard the noises from inside, I may never have guessed it was a tavern. I gently pushed open the wooden door, feeling the breeze whoosh inside, carrying me with it. A few people scattered throughout the bar looked over at me for a moment, and most went back to their drinks. I pushed down my hood timidly as the door shut behind me of its own accord.

As I looked around the tavern, I spotted many different groups. A couple recruits whom I had trained earlier waved merrily at me, patrons at the bar whom appeared to be messengers and spies, a bard who was speaking with a group of people that did not look like the rest, and there was even a lonely man sitting beside a crate and barrel. The house was packed, but I made my way towards the bar, dodging the tables and weaving underneath or beside the arms that flung themselves out for more ale. I passed by a pretty waitress who held many mugs on a tray and was making her way to a group of mercenaries towards the back.

Eventually I reached the bar and ordered myself a strong drink from the barman. He was a surface dwarf who had face tattoos that reminded me of the carta. I had met a couple before. His gruff and glib nature definitely made me believe there was more to him than a simple bartender. After all, barmen made it a career to discover secrets and lies about people - they were just perhaps more subtle than a bard. I tipped my glass to him in thanks as I turned around, leaning against the back of the bar while I looked for the host who had invited me here in the first place. I heard the scraping noise of a chair nearby and waited patiently as the footsteps neared, I took a sip of my drink as I waited for him to speak, not bothering to look over.

"All dressed up and ready to party, huh?" The unpolished voice spoke. I was learning that Varric's words were always smooth, but his voice had a unique jaggedness to it that was not at all like Cullen's honeyed laughter or Solas's fluid locution. The contrast between the two seemed to perfectly summarize who he was.

"I am not dressed up - am I?" I asked as I looked down at my clothes.

Now I began to question my outfit, was it too much? Oh no, I could not try and sound like I cared - someone might mistake me for an Orlesian background if I started caring about what I wore. The look on Varric's face told me that he was joking. How very amusing of him, and foolish of me. At least there were no bloodstains on my clothes tonight - how often had I missed a few blotches when I cleaned my laundry?

I took another sip of the dwarven ale. It was definitely swill, and very harsh on the throat, but I've grown accustomed - or as much as one can be - to the stuff.

"You're taking that down well. Do you actually like dwarven ale, or are you trying to show off?" Varric asked with a throaty laugh.

My fingers tapped on the mug as I looked down at Varric, a grin crossing my features, "perhaps a bit of both. I've actually got a funny story about the first time I tried it. Let's see ... this was about, oh, nine or ten years ago now. I was in the Hanged Man at Kirkwall, believe it or not, trying to drown in my sorrows. I guess my sullen attitude caught the attention of a dwarven man. He was as tough as nails and from what I remember he thought I had been listening in on his conversation with a merchant ... "

* * *

"Hey, you there, knife-ear!" The dwarf yelled at me.

My tired eyes willed themselves to look in the direction of the man. I hadn't slept in days so I hadn't even realized that I had been staring at en empty cup for ... well, I did not know how long. The dwarf looked angry, his mouth was twitching under his auburn beard and his dark eyes were narrowed as he stood up from his table. I may have felt threatened if he had not tripped a little over his chair.

I folded my hands in my lap as I crossed my legs and stared at the dwarf expectantly and patiently.

Something about this or the emotion I held on my face appeared to take him aback. He seemed to grow wary underneath his brute exterior.

"What're ya doin' listenin' on ma private business conversation?" He asked, his thick eyebrows furrowing with suspicion. "That's private, ya hear?"

I merely looked at him with mild surprise and glanced over at his "business partner", who waved awkwardly at me. I licked my lips as I turned back to face the dwarf, feeling quite amused at the obvious misinterpretation. When I did not answer, it only seemed to upset the dwarf even further, or perhaps make him feel even more unsettled, as though this were some kind of trap.

"Well? I don't have all bleedin' day!" He yelled, causing a person nearby to spill their drink with fright.

I blinked and couldn't help the little grin that appeared on my face, watching this dwarf squirm had produced a brief cure for my sorrows. I held out my hand coolly, inviting him to sit down. The dwarf stared at me hestitantly, then sat down and glanced immediately around the tavern, looking for something that might have been out of place. The man was stocky, even for a dwarf. He kept his hood up which shadowed most of his face, but he had a deep scar on his left cheek and deep-set almond eyes that appeared too small in comparison to his bulbous nose that had been broken before at least once.

"Whatever it is you think I am, you could not be further from the truth. I have no idea what you intend with your business partner, _smuggler_ , but I could not care less." I sneered quietly and gritted my teeth in a threatening manner. "Now if you would kindly go back to your seat so that you may have a good cry about your lost thaigs or talk about nug wrangling or whatever it is surface dwarves do nowadays - it would be much appreciated."

"You can't just insult my entire race like that, elf!" The dwarf spat as he slammed his fist on the table.

I did not flinch, and instead I leaned back in my chair, "I just did."

The dwarf's face had gone considerably red. His fingers began to quiver, itching to reach for his axe, but I could tell he was conflicted. Perhaps he had not yet closed his business deal, or he did not wish to start a fight in a crowded tavern when he was attempting secrecy. I knew this man would not attack me, but that did not make my words any less stupid. I had not even thought about what I was saying, I just wanted to get a rise out of him - something that I had succeeded at quite quickly. I was annoyed with his jumping to conclusions, I had no interest in what secrets he had. I had no clue what kind of business he was running. I simply did not care.

"Well, yer one to talk. Elves are always bitchin' about arlathene or arla-something. Whatever it is you all call it!"

"I am impressed ... that you could not even insult me or my race if you tried, I doubt that there is anything you could trounce me at, given your poor taste in words and weapon. Axes are for trees, not heads. Yours needs sharpening, by the way," I nodded towards his dull blade as I held my empty glass close.

I should have cut my tongue out right then and there with the look the dwarf was now giving me. He looked slowly towards his blade, as if contemplating whether or not he really wanted to pull it out in that moment. Insulting a mans weapon was quite idiotic indeed, I knew this from the start and yet the words still slipped out of my mouth without a second thought. Perhaps I really was the dumbest person in that tavern.

"Go," he muttered to his client, who promptly left the tavern as quickly as he could. Then the dwarf looked back at me, thick fingers tugging at the ends of his beard in contemplation. "You really think you're superior to me, huh? How much are you willing to bet that you can beat me in a drinking contest?"

"I'm sorry?" I asked, flabbergasted.

I had expected him to cut my head off right then and there. I had braced myself under the table, clutching at my seat with one hand as I waited for him to pounce. Did I not clean my ears properly? A duel was what I had been waiting for, not some silly bet over who could drink the most.

"You heard me, how much? I'm not gonna fight a child," he replied with a lighthearted chuckle.

"I am not a child!" I exclaimed angrily, my eyes narrowing at the silly dwarf for suggesting as such.

"You _are_ a child, one who probably can't hold her liquor too, I'm sure," he grinned, the ends of his eyes wrinkled with amusement.

The mocking attitude of his was only making me angrier than I had already been. How foolish of him to assume my age, I knew I was short, given that I was an elf, but that did not mean I was unable to hold a blade. I had been fighting all my life, I knew what the hilt of a sword was when I was barely walking! For him to insult my age and abilities was ... infuriating!

Still, as I thought about it, this dwarf had been at the tavern longer than I had and I finished my one drink ages ago. If he really was challenging me to a drinking contest ... it should be an easy win for me. I stared at him for a few moments longer, to see if he was playing some sort of game with me - it appeared his challenge was a sincere one, with no casualties aside from coin. I licked my lips and pulled out my coin-purse, throwing all its contents onto the table. The dwarf's eyes gleamed in the reflection of gold. He chuckled and emptied his own purse onto the table before ushering over the waitress.

"Two mugs of dwarven ale, and keep 'em comin'!"

The waitress hurried off and I gulped. I had not specified the drink of choice for the eve, and never before had I tried dwarven ale before. Judging by the look on the dwarfs face, he was eager to see me lose. I strengthened my courage, determined to win this contest no matter what I would be drinking. My gloved hands tapped at the table, staring the dwarf in the face with deep intensity and resentment. The dwarf looked calm and unnerved.

If this were a game of chess, I would have lost.

"There you are, Bersten, enjoy," the waitress said with an uneasy smile as she dropped off the two mugs.

A few people in the tavern were watching us now with a mixture of mirth and anxiety. I put my hand on the handle of the mug and peered inside. The ale was black, which was shocking and alarming at the same time. I swirled it slightly in the cup and noticed the consistency was thick like blood. And the smell ... a mixture of rotten eggs and flesh. If I hadn't known what darkspawn smelled like, I would have guessed it to smell exactly like that. I swallowed slowly, wondering if I should plug my nose before attempting to swallow this poor excuse for liquor.

Bersten grabbed his own mug and looked at me with a dark look of gaiety, seeming to know exactly what was going through my mind in that moment. Perhaps my thoughts were painted on my face as I was clearly disgusted and a little afraid of the ale.

"Give in yet?" He asked with an immoral chortle that blew out of his nose.

I swallowed thickly, "never."

Immediately I threw my head back and poured the liquid into my mouth. The taste hit me in an instant, causing me to choke on the black sludge that tasted like rotten fungi and meat. Why did the ale taste like meat? And sweat? Images of older warriors emptying their boots of a deep grey liquid after long days of training flooded my mind like a plague as I slugged the liquor down. After what seemed like ages, I slammed my mug down and leaned over the side of the table, trying my best to swallow the vomit that was rapidly crawling up my throat. I coughed many times until I braced myself to look up at Bersten with reddened eyes, only to notice that the man was merely wiping his mouth as if he had drank nothing more than a nice red wine or water, even!

"H-how?" I asked, coughing up some of the black sludge onto the tavern floor, but no vomit, surprisingly. "What in the gods graces is that horrible stuff?"

Bersten let out a booming laugh as he slammed down his mug, "giving up already, are we? I thought you claimed you could best me at anything!"

Still suppressing the strong urge to vomit, I slipped onto the floor and held a gloved hand over my mouth while the taste of the ale lingered as though it were still flowing through my lips. I had done things that most hadn't in their entire lifetimes, but this was something beyond that. The cool wooden floor helped, but only a little. Most of the tavern was looking at us now, and I realized I had been humbled to the greatest extremes. I learnt my lesson right then and there: never challenge a dwarf to a drinking contest. Bersten sat there, patiently, waiting for me to regain my strength. Eventually, I stood myself up and held out a gloved hand to the dwarf. I had not seen many human and dwarvish customs in my time, but I knew what a handshake meant.

This took Bersten seemingly by surprise, his mouth twitched under his beard and he stared at my hand with trepidation. A moment later, however, he took my hand strongly and gave it a hard shake, then he stood up as well and gave me a rough pat on the back and when I saw his face again, he had a look of triumph and elation. As glad as I was to see that he was not going to attempt to cut my head off, the rough pat on the back made me feel nauseous from the recent attack to my liver.

"I offer my sincerest apologies for attacking your honor and race. It was ... unworthy of me," I commented and bowed my head with shame. I should not have let my anger get the best of me.

"Bah! Salroka, you're growing soft!" Bersten replied gruffly, patting me on the back a few more times. "I say that the night is young, and I believe that gold I just won should benefit all of the tavern, don'tcha think? Share another drink with an old dwarf."

I grinned at him in reply, not having a clue what salroka meant, I could only hope that it was a term of endearment. Although, I would not be entirely surprised if he just insulted me. The insult would be fairly justified, in any case. "Alright, but I think I will hold off on the dwarven ale for now."

* * *

"... And after that things went ... insane, really. Bersten and I led the drunken patrons into a kind of rally. Having been drunk myself, I had a wicked hangover after the eve. I do recall some stained underwear being waved onto a stick. I am certain that was Theren's, a regular at the Hanged Man from what I was told. And all throughout the night was our mob, with Bersten and I leading the front yelling: "If the shit don't stick, sit your ass on the viscount's -" well, I'm sure you get the idea. I cannot remember who came up with the whole thing, but I am fairly certain that it stemmed from the anger towards Viscount Dumar's inaction over the Qunari presence. Eventually the guards showed up and we all scattered. Most were arrested, but Bersten and I escaped, and drank out of flasks underneath a stone staircase, laughing and sharing stories until the sun rose."

"You were the one who lead the underwear rebellion?" Varric asked with a look of complete surprise after he stopped laughing.

I almost snorted into my ale, "is that what they called it?"

I had hundreds of stories in regards to my past, that one in particular was a good one, I only had a few stories of happier memories. After that night, Bersten became one of my closest friends. He is one of the few friends I have that is still alive. I write to him as often as I can, and usually enclose some gold, enough to buy about five kegs of dwarven ale a year, a small price for everything he has done for me. He is a good man; I reminded myself to write him a letter on the road and tell him what I have been up to. But leave nothing to compromise the Inquisition should it fall into the wrong hands - including Leliana - as written words in my delicate situation could appear as betrayal to our cause.

"Hang on, did I just hear all of that correctly?"

A voice came from the right of me, in the crowded scene I had not even heard him approach until now, too invested in my retelling. I turned to face the Inquisitor whose face said quite plainly: what in the maker's breath have I stumbled upon? That look only caused me to laugh with mirth.

"I am afraid so," I responded simply. "I suppose you would like a drink to get the imagery out of your head?"

"Please. Although I am not certain all the ale in the tavern could erase the pictures of shit-stained underwear out of my head," The Inquisitor replied coolly, but his lips quirked upwards with intrigue. "I suppose the suspicions are correct then; there is more to you after all. Although, not in the way I had imagined."

I waved the bartender over to let him know that the Inqusitor's drinks would go on my tab. It was a small payment for what he had done for me, and I believed I owed him for walking into that unfortunate story. I doubt he intended to eavesdrop on my retelling, given that he seemed not to hear the first part of the story. Though I hardly would have cared if he really had been. Taverns were _meant_ for eavesdropping in my experiences.

I watched as the Inquisitor took his mead of choice before I responded to his statement, "oh believe me, there are plenty more stories where that came from. Especially around those years of my life. I will admit I was a bit of a ... oh, what is the term, a "wild child"?"

"Shit disturber?" Varric piped in.

"Oh! That is a good one! I will definitely be using that."

The three of us laughed in unison, and for once I felt like I was on the path to truly belonging somewhere. But could I belong if they did not know who I really was? I pushed these thoughts aside. Trying to convince myself that I was not betraying them. I was protecting them, in a way. If they did not go looking ... then certain people would not be found. It felt like a weak excuse, but there were other reasons for hiding my identity, and not all of them were selfish. In fact, there was really only one true selfish reason.

But even one selfish reason was still bad enough, I reminded myself.

"So, Inquisitor, what time are we to depart tomorrow?" I asked nonchalantly.

"First daybreak. We have a lot of ground to cover until we reach Crestwood. It will be four days ride at least, given that we have to trek through most of these damnable mountains. Do you have your own mount?"

Damnable mountains was one way to put it. I always hated the cold of the mountains, it bit right through to the skin, leaving you red and frozen to the core. Ferelden had always been colder than anywhere else I had been, but the mountains were something else. And if it was snowing? Well, you could barely see two feet in front of you in a real snowstorm. I had heard of a few who went missing in the mountains. I had no doubt that the cold got to them before bandits or wolves.

"No ... not anymore. She died a few weeks ago," I replied with sorrow tinged in my voice.

"Oh - I'm sorry." The Inquisitor responded, and it looked as though he actually meant it. "Well ... we have some mounts available in the stables. We'll meet there before we leave. Perhaps you can find a suitable mount before we set off?"

"I will."

My old horse had been killed by those hunters at the conclave. I remember the horror I felt when my faithful steed collapsed into the snow, staining the white with red. Her cries chilled me to my core and it took all the strength I had to end her suffering. I could not let her lie there to bleed out, the process could have taken hours. It had been a mercy killing. Her black mane bristled in the wind, ever so graceful as she had been in life. Loyal until the very end.

Yet another life that I had held in my hands. The feeling of guilt had turned into a so burden long ago that I could bare it.

"So, I take it you haven't met everyone yet? Well, meeting everyone at Skyhold would be impossible, but there are some familiar faces you should know," Varric informed as he leaned against the bar with ease and started nodding his head to a few people in the tavern. "That over there is Blackwall. A Grey Warden that Leliana's agents located in the Hinterlands when the Wardens up and disappeared. Didn't really find an answer since he was just as blindsided as us - but he offered himself up to help and since you're going out tomorrow to look for the Wardens -"

"He'll be coming with us," I finished for him.

He was surly-looking, I noted. And alone - not uncommon with the Grey Wardens. The man wore well-built armor that had the sigil of a Griffon on the breastplate. He appeared to be in his thirties or forties, the long black beard of his seemed to age him and his hairline looked like it was receding a bit - although his widows peak was very prominent. There was a hardened, steely look in his eyes which held my attention. I could not judge much more on his character but I made a mental note to talk to him later on. If we would be travelling tomorrow I would prefer to make my own opinion of the man based on more than just sight. People were rarely what they seemed to be. His being a Warden had merely heightened my intrigue - and it only made sense that he would be coming with us.

The things he must know ... all the questions I had - the doubts I had produced in my studies, rushed to the surface. I had to remind myself it would be best not to ask a hundred questions at once, especially with a man who looked so solemn. Not to mention, I did not know a thing about the man aside from his name and profession. The questions would have to lie at bay for a while longer, until I got to know the fellow - he may not even like me at all to begin with. I was surprised enough that those I had met seemed to enjoy my company well enough. There had to be _someone_ here I would not get along with.

The Inquisitor drank from his mug before looking towards a raucous group in the back, "those are the Iron Bull's Chargers."

The name rang through my mind as I tried to remember where I had heard it before. Upon looking at them I realized who they were, though I did not know them personally. "Ah yes, the famous mercenary band."

"You know them?" Varric asked, but I shook my head.

I noted immediately that the group was rather varied. A man stood in the corner with a pint of ale in his hand, he wore a hood that made it harder to see his face, but judging from his height and stocky nature I assumed he was a dwarf - he wore light brown armor with a lot of buckles. The dwarf was chatting with a man who was heavily pockmarked on the cheeks and kept his dark tight-curled hair so short you almost could not tell how curly it was. I noticed that there were two elves in the company as well. One was quite pale with blonde hair that was shaved on one side. Her armor and vallaslin gave her nature away immediately - Dalish. It was quite surprising to find another Dalish elf outside of her Clan, but when I spotted the staff on her back I realized immediately.

Though my Clan was much different, I had heard of others who - well, abandoned their mages when there were too many. Usually the only mages I had ever seen in a Dalish encampment were the First and Second. I did not agree with the practice in any form. If the Dalish were still upset with the shemlen for what had been done ages ago, why would they think that deserting their own kin was acceptable? The convention felt highly hypocritical, and their behaviors were one of the reasons why I never followed another Clan; though I hoped for a way to help them, as I remained sympathetic to their cause. But it was no wonder that those with magical capabilities felt repressed, no matter their race. At least this elf looked happier - if perhaps a little cynical judging by the grin she bore when another in their company hurt their hand while playing with a knife.

The other elf was undoubtedly a city elf. Though Solas was an exception, most elves who had no vallaslin on their faces tended to live in settlements across Thedas. I had not met many city elves who were largely able to hold their own. The slums they lived in made me wonder why they chose to stay there at all. They were treated poorly, sometimes even worse than slaves - and oh yes, there were plenty of elven slaves as well. I hated to think it, but they made themselves an easier target. The Dalish were able to protect themselves, they honed their combat skills daily, but the city elves? I only knew a few who could hold a sword properly. Perhaps out of them all, I felt the worst for them. I had seen with my own eyes the injustice acts forced upon them simply for living. The thought made my stomach squirm and my jaw set with anger. This elf, however, looked much more capable than any I had ever seen, if she was with a famous band of mercenaries, I knew she held her weight well. Besides that, her blood-red scarf that she wore looked quite fashionable.

"Have you met the Iron Bull yet?" The Inquisitor asked keenly.

"You can't miss him. Qunari. Big horns. Toughest bastard I've ever seen, but don't tell him that," Varric added quickly.

Though it would indeed be difficult not to spot any Qunari given their size and horns, I had to admit that I had only seen a few in my lifetime. To be honest, I generally avoided the Qunari as much as possible. I had never been to Seheron and I had no intentions of travelling anywhere near there. The Qun was the most horrific philosophy I had ever heard of. In fact, when Bersten first told me about it I thought it was a joke. Surely there was no way an entire race could be that authoritarian? To strip all individuality? They did not even have names! Their profession was their name. Did that not confuse everyone? I originally thought that the Tal-Vashoth - those who abandoned the laws - would be more reasonable, but Bersten informed me that generally was not the case. This Iron Bull, however, sounded unlike anything I had heard.

"So ... where is he then?" I asked, my fingernails tapping against my flagon.

The Inquisitor glanced around then shrugged casually, "not here by the looks of it. But I'm sure you'll see him soon. He drinks more than the three of us put together."

"Well, while we are here, would either of you fancy a game of Diamondback?" I suggested serenely.

While hearing all the noises and watching others play a multitude of games, I could not help myself from wanting to join in on the fun. It had been a little while since I had played Diamondback, but I still remembered the rules. It was one of the most entertaining ways to gain some extra coin, and my purse could always use some more gold. Not that I would _have_ to place bets on the game, of course. Still, Diamondback was one of the easier games to play, whereas a game of chess required logic, and Wicked Grace required skill, Diamondback was based almost purely on luck. As fun as Wicked Grace would be, it was even more so with many other players, and chess was not really much of a tavern game.

"I'm in," the Inquisitor offered with a handsome grin.

Varric was glancing around the tavern, however, "I think I'd better sit this one out. I think Seeker's looking for an excuse to reprimand me."

I followed his gaze and saw a tall woman with short black hair and eyes as sharp as a knife. I assumed that this was the Seeker of Truth I had heard about before. She looked close to how I pictured her, but with much sharper cheekbones. The scars on her cheek were deep and I surmised that she would not be a good person to cross. When she looked at me I saw a flicker of mistrust in her eyes, but that could have been a trick of the light.

She did have nice armor though.

The Inquisitor chuckled at Varric and led me to an empty table so that we could play. I felt in my pockets for my deck of cards, after playing these games so often I usually kept a deck handy. My fingers felt over an arrowhead, a piece of parchment, a chunk of bone and - yes, the deck of cards held together with a black ribbon. I pulled the deck out and placed it on the table, undoing the ribbon and pushing it back into my pocket.

"Is that blood?" the Inquisitor asked cautiously, pointing to the stained deck of cards.

I had completely forgotten that was there, and offered a jovial laugh. "I suppose that is. My last competitor did not appreciate losing and tried to run off with my hard-earned gold. After attempting to hit me in the head with a - oh, I think it was a chair leg? He ended up with a lost finger and I got my coin and then some! I uh ... hope you do not mind?"

The Inquisitor stared at me incredulously and opened his mouth to say something, then thought best not to.

"Suppose I should have clarified _I_ was not the one who cut off his finger. Did make a mess of my cards though ... he lost his finger in the following bar fight that ensued after the chair leg incident. People were on edge enough as it was in Denerim at the time, that course of action merely provided the fuse. I grabbed my coin and whisked away before I got myself killed." I explained with a shrug.

The bloodied finger loomed in my mind, dirt crusted, nail bitten to the very end. I was not sure what was more horrifying, the chopped off finger or the poor manicure. The look on the Inquisitor's face said quite plainly that he wished he hadn't asked, and that expression caused me to grin in spite of myself. That story was light-hearted in comparison to my other tales. Besides, there could have been a much more gruesome fate behind the bloodstain.

I shuffled the cards well after organizing the five piles with the correct amount for the two of us, putting the remainder of the pack aside - we wouldn't need it. The good thing about Diamondback was that a person did not have to bet if they did not want to, meaning that you may not even lose a coin all night. This was well, considering I did not want his pockets to be hurting, nor did I feel like gambling should be the main focus of the game. I dealt for the round, giving us each two cards. Since I was the dealer I flipped up my first card, but the Inquisitor was allowed to look at his own two cards.

My only card was a King. Not a bad hand when dealt with a Priestess or a Magician, but the odds of having the only Magician in the pack was highly unlikely. Although, since there was only fifteen cards in the pack I still had a chance. If not this round, then perhaps in another round. I produced two coppers out of my pocket as a bet, and the Inquisitor added three. He may have a descent hand then. I flipped over my other card to reveal a Queen, meaning I won 35 points. The Inquisitor clicked his tongue and showed his cards. The only magician - and a priest. Meaning that he was one step below mine.

"Tough luck." I responded and pulled the pot towards me.

It really was. The best and worst card in the entire game? That was rough. I won by a mere five points.

The Inquisitor chuckled and dealt me two cards this time. When I looked I placed a silver in the pile. A Magician and a Queen. The only way the Inquisitor could win was if he had both the Priestesses. And since the card he flipped over was a King, there was no way for him to win. He still placed a silver to match mine - completely unable to see through my straight face.

"So, tell me honestly Inquisitor, has your spymaster found anything worthwhile on me?" I asked timidly, daring to look him in the eye.

The Inquisitor thumbed at the edge of the face-down card, "well, I expect she may know a few things about -"

"Come now, you don't really expect me to believe that she would not have told you immediately if she knew anything worthwhile?"

The Inquisitor grinned, though he did not say a word about it. I knew I was right in my assumption. The Herald revealed the next card, another King. A good hand, but worthless against my Magician. I laid my cards down and took the pot once again. For a game of luck, I was doing quite well. In Diamondback, the King was worthless against a Queen.

"No, she doesn't, and I suspect it's driving her a little mad. She found a terrifying amount of information on me in just a few days. Even Dorian, who arrived here just before the attack in Haven, although he does love to talk about himself. Why not tell us who you are outright?" He asked, highly curiously.

I smirked and took a sip of my ale, feeling the burn all the way down my throat, "I have many reasons for doing so. I would never ask you to trust me outright, but I will prove my loyalty in time. Besides, it's more fun this way, would you not agree?"

The Inquisitor shook his head, and I could tell he felt a little troubled. I could not blame him as I knew I would feel the same if I had been in his position. Sadly there was not much I could say to ease his mind. I had not been a good person before arriving here. Truth be told I was not sure if I could even consider myself a good person now. There was too much that I had done in the past; I could hardly attempt to atone for it all. While I had originally decided to come here for a more selfish intent, I found myself enjoying having a purpose - and a good one at that. Perhaps this was where I was meant to be - but I was still uncertain if I could believe in such a thing as fate or destiny.

"What does your mark look like?" I asked casually as I shuffled the cards and began to deal.

He paused then. For a moment I was certain he would not want to show me, but he took off his glove and revealed what it looked like. I suppose he received the question often enough. It looked almost like a scar that ran down the palm of his hand. Indeed it was a scar in every aspect - except that it was glowing green. The color was like the breach and was moving just the same; it flickered in the light, but quite dully. The look of it was quite unnerving, as I had never seen such a thing. This was a different kind of magic - if it was even magic at all.

I knew in that moment what this meant. I was quiet for a moment before I spoke the words to confirm my belief.

"You are the one who will save the world."

"How can you possibly know that?" He asked.

When I looked into his eyes then, I could see a sadness there. He was haunted by it all. I knew that the burden he carried must have been a heavy one - there would be no one to ease his mind. His path was a lonely one, and there would be much pain and sorrow before it was over. There was one thing for certain: he was strong, and it was his strength that gave others the courage to keep fighting. I had heard the recruits when I was training them earlier and they truly believed in him and the cause. That was a good thing - they were not following on blind faith alone, they saw their leader and they knew he would guide them to salvation.

"Because there is no other option." I replied sadly.

The Inquisitor nodded then and huffed as he looked at his cards. I swallowed thickly. The words had been out of my mouth when I realized how cold they appeared. They were words I had heard all my life, but I knew I was not helping to ease his burden. I reached out to pat the back of his hand kindly, and his knuckles eased at the warm touch. He stared hard at me then and I gave him a weak smile.

"It's not all bad, you know," I continued on. "I mean, look at everyone here. They all admire you, and that's not just because of that mark you have. They really believe in you."

At my words the Herald glanced around the tavern and noticed some who tipped their mugs to him and others who looked away with embarrassment hot on their cheeks. I had watched them in the tavern before, and none could take their eyes off him. They did not hold themselves with fear, but adoration. That was something that only a quality leader could attain. Though I did not know him very well, even I could not deny that he was good company. I owed him much, as did everyone else. When he looked back at me, there was a grin on his face.

I flipped over my card to reveal a priestess. This meant that I had a high chance of winning the game. Deciding to throw caution to the winds, I threw my entire pot into the pile. The Inquisitor himself placed a few coins down as well, so he must have a decent hand as well. I flipped over the last card once the final bet was made and saw another priestess.

The door opened then and a cool breeze hit me. I glanced up and spotted a familiar man who I had not expected to see - but who had been lingering in the back of my mind all night.

"That's a good hand, but mine's better," The Inquisitor said with a chuckle as he revealed his cards. I did not have to look down to see the cards he had. There was only one hand that was better than mine. He had the magician. I did not care, though. My mind was in a completely different place. I stood up and pushed the pot towards him, not even looking at him as I stared at the man who caught my attention.

"Solas ..."


End file.
